Blood Is Thicker Than Water
by Lady Geanna
Summary: The King and The Queen in a modern world. A world full of danger, corruption and passion. An old adage says power corrupts but does love lead to salvation? Or is tragedy inescapable? Major AU. Katherine/Henry. Co-authored with LadyElegance.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A/N: Welcome to our story! It's a major AU and inspired by The Godfather movies. This is by no means a history biography, just something fun and different. If AU's aren't your cup of tea, then please don't read. If they are, we hope you will enjoy!

* * *

Katherine Tudor was pacing nervously through the completely white and sterile corridor at London Bridge Hospital. A characteristic, sharp smell filled her delicate nostrils. She was furious. Her four–year old daughter had been playing on the playground with her older siblings and after some time the little girl unfortunately had fallen and twisted her wrist. Katherine desperately had wanted to inform her husband but he hadn't responded when she had called.

Business, business, business. Henry Tudor was totally fixated on his businesses, a set of exclusive, horribly expensive hotels and a few illegal casinos where men that belonged to the British underworld usually indulged in their addiction to gambling.

"Calm down, Kate. Everything is going to be fine." Mary Brandon, Katherine's sister-in-law and best friend had come closer and offered her a styrofoam cup of warm, fragrant coffee.

"Of course, everything is going to be fine, at least with my injured little girl but I'm not certain about my crumbling marriage," the older woman responded and took a sip of the hot drink.

"To be honest, I have no idea what to say. I can only tell you that you are the one who decided to tie your life to this bloody business. It's not like I'm defending my older, absolutely stupid brother but..."

"I see. Don't worry, darling, I will cope with it on my own."

While the two sisters-in-law were talking to each other two small boys were sitting on the hospital's chairs. The eldest one, twelve-year old Edward was reading a book on his Kindle, while his younger brother Owen was playing a game on a mobile phone and waggling his legs.

Edward seemed to be entirely occupied with his Kindle but it wasn't the truth: the child was very smart and clever, definitely above the average. He knew. He knew that between his parents something had been wrong for a long time. Mary and Owen didn't care. They were too young, too silly, too naive.

Daddy's pearl was entirely doted on by her father, so was his brother. For Mary, Henry Tudor was a perfect man. The man of her little heart who pampered his princess at every turn.

Owen always said that he wanted to be like their father. Bold, strong and relentless.

 _Such a pity –_ Edward thought – _none of them are aware of the fact that our caring and loving father is a mobster. A murderer, a sophisticated murderer always dressed in a luxury suit.I will never be like him! I will never be a ruthless killer! -_ the boy swore to himself and then returned to reading.

Meanwhile, Katherine nursed her cup of coffee, savouring the feel of its warmth against the palms of her elegant, feminine hands. Her conversation with her sister-in-law had soothed her nerves enough that she no longer felt the urge to pace the corridor anymore. She glanced over at her boys, making sure that they were okay, as she caught sight of her brother-in-law Arthur and his wife Anne Tudor nee Boleyn hurrying down the corridor towards them.

"Kate, sister, how's little Mary doing?" Arthur asked the two women, coming to a standstill before them with his wife by his side. The dark-haired couple wore matching expressions of concern on their handsome faces. The sight was touching of course, and comforting but Katherine felt a bitter laugh bubbling in the pit of her stomach. _Mary's uncle shows more concern for her than her own father, who didn't even bother to answer his phone._ The laugh was dangerously close to escaping her lips but the redhead pushed it down, stifling its momentum. While he waited for her response Arthur greeted his sister Mary, giving her a kiss on the cheek, his wife Anne giving her sister-in-law a quick hug.

"She's fine, a little shaken up from the fall at the playground, and she needs to wear a cast for her wrist for a few weeks. Did you get in touch with Henry?" Katherine asked, wondering if Arthur had had better luck in reaching Henry than she had.

Katherine watched as Anne pursued her lips in disapproval at the mention of Henry, before she fixed her gaze on Arthur. Her brother-in-law was handsome with his light brown hair and cheerful brown eyes that were almost always twinkling with amusement. He was a little shorter than his older brother, and always dressed casually in comparison to Henry, who preferred tailored designer suits over crisp polo shirts and jeans.

He gave her an apologetic look. "You know my older brother, Kate. Always occupied with business. He didn't answer when I called, but I made sure to leave plenty of angry voicemails."

Katherine didn't know why she had bothered asking when she knew what the answer would be.

"Did you reach Charles, sister?"

Mary Brandon shook her head. "No, he must be with Henry."

Anne placed a gentle hand on Katherine's shoulder, the gesture meant to be reassuring but Katherine could feel her anger at Henry bubbling to the surface again. "Everything is going to work out, Kate. Why don't Arthur, Mary and I take the boys home and watch them for you until their sister is ready to be released? They look like they could use some rest." They all turned to look in the boys' direction. Edward and Owen had become distracted from their Kindle and mobile phone and were looking at their relatives with tired curiosity.

Katherine nodded her head in agreement. "Thank you, Annie," she said, giving the younger woman a soft smile in gratitude. Mary and Anne walked off to prepare the boys for their departure.

Arthur leaned over and gave his sister-in-law a quick departing peck on the cheek. "Give him hell, Kate. He deserves it." There was a slight sparkle in his eyes, meant to lift her mood.

"Thank you, Arthur."

* * *

The clock on the ornate mantelpiece struck midnight, it's chime echoing around the elegant living room, empty of it's usual inhabitants except for one. With the lights dimmed, Katherine sat upright in a sleek, leather armchair, her spine straight with anger. The force of that powerful emotion had still not lessened, even hours later. Arthur, Anne and Mary had left hours ago, the children were soundly asleep in their warm beds. Katherine was sure that as tired as they were they must have gone out like lights as soon as their little heads had hit the pillows. Her eyelids were heavy with fatigue and stress but she was waiting for something, her ears carefully tuned to the sounds in and around the house, ready to pick up the faintest signs of a new arrival. But she did not have to wait long.

Ah, there it was. The characteristic and unmistakable sound of a BMW pulling into their driveway, filling the dim living room with bright light for an instant before the headlights were cut off and the engine shut off. A door was slammed, interrupting the stillness of the night, and there was a brief moment of silence before she heard masculine footsteps outside of the front door, and keys jingling in the lock. There was a click and a pause. Katherine did not move a muscle. She was seated with her back to the front door. The door opened quietly, designer dress shoes crossing the threshold. A light switch was casually flicked up, suddenly illuminating the dim room without giving Katherine's eyes enough time to adjust to the contrast. The man of the hour had arrived.

"Kate."

The sound of her name being spoken in that deep, rich voice caused something in her to snap, that anger that had been present at the hospital and before he had arrived was brought back to the forefront. She still did not turn to face her husband.

"Kate, look at me."

He knew she would be angry, but did not anticipate this. Katherine always greeted him when he came home.

"I'm sorry."

Those two words were enough to break her rigid passivity. She finally turned to look at him. Henry Tudor, the businessman and elegant mobster was dressed in his sophisticated, tailored designer suit, an expensive gold watch sitting on his wrist, a crisp cobalt blue tie around his neck. Everything about him screamed success. Danger. Power. Only she could see the exhaustion in his icy, blue eyes, the price that was paid for being the boss, the King of the criminal underworld.

"You're sorry?" A slight edge had crept into her measured tone. Katherine fixed her piercing gaze onto him. "What are you sorry for? The fact that your daughter kept asking where her father was the entire car ride home and I didn't know what to say to her?"

Henry winced slightly. The action was barely perceptible, without careful observation it could have passed for a facial tic. Damn her for making him feel more guilty than he already did!

"I had urgent business to attend to, Kate. You know that I can't just step away," he told her, working hard to keep his tone even but he could feel his famous temper beginning to flare up. She knew this, they had been married for years, and now he had to explain himself to her? Now? After all this time?

That careful composure she had worked hard to keep finally slipped, and she jumped up from the armchair, coming closer to her husband. Her usually calm blue eyes now held a fire in them. "Business, business, business! Is that all you care about anymore? You're hardly ever home."

"You knew what I was when you married me, Kate," he spat, venom dripping from his words, his voice rising higher with anger.

She laughed, a short, bitter sound, dying out as soon as it had sprung up. "Yes, and I married you anyway. But you were different then. Less fixated on business. You were actually here, present, by my side."

Henry turned away from her in frustration, breathing an irritated sigh. He had heard enough. But his wife wasn't finished just yet.

"You are the King of the underworld but does being King of the damned mean you have to sacrifice our children's well-being? Our marriage?"

He whirled around to face her again, his features settled into a cold mask, his previous anger dissipating.

"If I'm the King of the damned, doesn't that make you the Queen, darling?"

Before Katherine could answer they both heard the creaking of a floorboard, and turned their heads in the direction of the sound. It was Edward. They had been so caught up in their argument they had not realized how loud their voices had risen, waking Edward from his slumber. For the child's part he looked as if some suspicion he had possessed earlier had been proven correct. He had known all along. He had been right after all. Something is very wrong with his parents' marriage. His mother was hurting and it was his father's fault.

Katherine quickly regained her composure, not wanting her child to see her in such a state. She walked over to her son, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What are you doing up, darling? Let's get you back to bed."

Edward very reluctantly looked away from his father and allowed himself to be lead back to his bedroom, leaving Henry to stand by himself in the living room, watching the two of them depart. He brought a hand up and scrubbed his face, releasing a frustrated breath. He had screwed things up badly, hadn't he?

* * *

After a few moments, he walked into the hallway, on his way to their bedroom at the end of the hall, before deciding he had someone he needed to see first. He made his way to the first bedroom on the right, and gently pushed the door open. His little princess was sleeping soundly in the middle of the bed with her pink covers pulled up over her petite sleeping form, a matching pink cast wrapped around her delicate, injured wrist. The sight filled him with pinpricks of guilt. He should have been there with her today. Henry slowly approached the bed, being careful not to wake his child. He leaned over and placed a kiss, as light as a butterfly, on her pale forehead. "I promise I will make this up to you, Mary," he whispered. The little girl stirred briefly, the only response his whispered promise had elicited but it was not enough to cause her to wake. Earning back the favor of a child was no difficult feat. Now, if he only knew how to earn Katherine's forgiveness.

* * *

Katherine was lying under the silk, cream-coloured duvet when Henry got out of their personal bathroom which was connected to the bedroom. Only the lamp on Henry's side of the bed illuminated the entire space. His wife was hermetically covered with her sheets like a caterpillar in it's cocoon. Henry sighed deeply, taking off his elegant, green robe as flippantly as always, the smooth fabric landing on the floorboard. After that he slipped under the covers. Dreadful silence filled the room for a long while. Katherine didn't move even an inch from her position. Henry glimpsed at her, then laid down, facing his wife's back. He gently touched her feminine body with his big, masculine, but still smooth palms. Henry shifted in Katherine's direction, hugging her tightly.

"Kate, my precious Kate," he said in a whisper, filling the void of that ominous night. "My love, you and the children are the most important people in my life. I will do everything in my power to make you happy again. I screwed up, I'm well aware of that irrefutable fact. I should have been there for our little girl but I couldn't leave the meeting and the best doctors in London took care of her. She was with you and my sister." Henry finished his long monologue, not getting a response. The redhead remained unmoved.

"Please, give me a chance to fix it. Let me earn your forgiveness, your favour back." Henry started to explore Katherine's slender form, trying to reach her breasts. "I will give you great pleasure, as always," he whispered in a low, passionate voice, brushing away shiny strands of hair from her beautiful face and gently bitting a delicate earlobe. Katherine turned around vigorously in order to look at the love of her life. The man who had been notorious in breaking his promises.

"Your joke isn't funny, honey," she told him in a sarcastic tone.

Henry scoffed. "I'm not jesting, darling. I want to make you feel good," he responded, smiling widely, then trying to kiss his wife on the mouth. Mrs. Tudor immediately pulled back, her pink lips forming a tight line, clenching her teeth.

"No, Henry, it isn't for me, it's for you. You always do things for your own personal pleasure. How is it that you weren't at your own kid's birthday party – you promised to be on time and didn't even show up – but you're ALWAYS ready for sex! And I don't have to remind you about Mary's accident and your lacking presence." Katherine was enraged, daring to shout at the boss of the underworld.

"Don't start with me, Katherine," he said to her in a vicious whisper. It was a kind of warning. Nobody dared to mess with Henry Tudor! Of course, except for his courageous, charming wife. "I'm doing my best to please you, to repair my mistakes and you don't even appreciate my efforts!"

"You're doing your best to please yourself, Henry. The fact that you bought an awfully expensive toy as a gift hasn't made anything up to Edward. Maybe it will work in Mary's case since she is a naive child but our children need a mother and a father that are together... at home." The sadness in her feminine voice was almost tangible.

Henry was angry with her, his handsome face turning red. "How can you blame me for this? Everything that I'm doing, I'm doing for you and our children! You're the daughter of a successful woman and a businessman, both of your parents were very busy with their businesses and yet you dare to make me feel guilty?!" Henry being as egoistic as always tried to get rid of his pangs of conscience.

"Neither of my parents were mobsters. They worked and earned their money fairly." A dreadful laugh escaped from Henry's mouth after she voiced that sentence. She had no idea what was wrong with her husband in that very moment but went on speaking anyway. "My parents were very busy, I admit that freely but they still did everything they could to find free time for us. I'm with our children all the time. I help them with their homework, bake cookies with them, put them to bed and take care of them when they're ill. And where are you, as a dad, Henry?" Katherine asked, not waiting for a frank response.

"I told you that you didn't have to work because I have enough money to provide for us all. You agreed with me, sweetheart," his deep voice was filled with venom, like that of a cunning snake. "I work so much so you can live like a fucking queen and our children can have anything they wish! I chose you as my wife, as my companion and I can't get some sympathy? Lots of women would kill to be in your shoes."

Utter resignation swept over Katherine's mind and body. "Yes. You're right. You chose me first. I didn't choose you," she said in a sorrowful tone and turned her back on him. He wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. She rested her red head on her pillow and closed her eyes, recalling valuable memories from the past...

* * *

15 July 1998, Chelsea, London

It was a very warm and lovely night. In the luscious green gardens situated near their sumptuous residence Isabella and Ferdinand Trastamara had organized a great party for their closest friends and family, including their adult offspring and their spouses. It should be told that the famous couple had invited only the cream of London society. Beautiful women dressed in their wonderful, expensive gowns and distinguished men in tailored, sophisticated suits were dancing gracefully around the marvelous area.

Young waitresses and waiters dressed in their special uniforms were flowing around holding silver trays with extraordinarily precious glasses filled with delicious drinks. Different kinds of red and white wines, Scottish whiskey and the most expensive champagne in this perverse world.

The hosts of this excellent party had created a very interesting marriage almost thirty years ago.

To tell the truth, Isabella and Ferdinand were distant relatives, therefore their close relationship had caused controversy.

He had fallen madly in love with his gorgeous red-haired cousin and Ferdinand's father hadn't been against the idea of them being together. John Trastamara had been in fact a very greedy and soulless man. His children for him had been only pawns who he could use in his battle for power and money.

Isabella's family was well known for having a great fortune and her future father-in-law had been especially fond of the girl's inheritance.

In that way two extremely bold man with Spanish blood running in their veins had decided that their children had to marry in a hurry.

She loved him, he loved her and a great amount of money plus another great amount of money equaled a huge fortune.

His lordship(as he liked to think of himself) was sitting on a preciously crafted chair in his study. The room was furnished in an ancient, ostentatious way. A mahogany desk, an armchair made of a pale veal leather. Everything had been made precisely by a human's smooth hands. There were plenty of gorgeous trinkets and patterns carved patiently in a valued glass cabinet. Ferdinand was talking to his personal accountant and best friend, Eustace Chapuys. His grey marine suit jacket was flippantly slung over the chair. The first three buttons of his white shirt were carelessly undone and his silk tie,the colour of cold steel, was loosely placed around his neck.

"Oh, my friend, I feel that my time is coming. I'm bankrupt! I have a horrible headache. And all these people here! They are eating and drinking excessively, obviously at my cost! What should I do, Chapuys?" The older man asked his faithful companion, who was standing next to him as elegant as always, a pile of documents in his masculine hands.

"I told you once what you should do. I told you what you HAVE TO do," Eustace responded, a faint smile plastered on his face.

"No, I can't tell her. I can't disappoint my wife. She gave her entire fortune to me, do you understand? I would be dead. She would murder me with her bare, delicate hands, or simply with her blue eyes," Ferdinand went on and on.

"So, in response to your question: I have no idea what we should do. Maybe you should kill yourself before Isabella will?"

"Ha,ha,ha. I can't restrain myself from laughing! Don't try to be funny because you're not."

"As you wish. Now look at these invoices." The accountant leaned over the desk and put some documents on top of it."You bought a dress from Dior for one of your daughters, diamond earrings, a handbag from Prada, a necklace from Tiffany..." Eustace started to count but an impatient and nervous Ferdinand interrupted.

"Enough! That was my wife's doing! I hope that my suit wasn't as expensive as the last one," he whispered, completely helpless at that moment and then looked down at his trousers.

"That's Armani. The cheapest one! Only two thousand dollars," Chapuys said in an amused tone.

"Such a consolation, indeed..."

Ferdinand hadn't been in good condition financially for a few, long weeks. It was a miracle that Isabella hadn't noticed yet. Eustace just shrugged his wide, strong arms. "Be good and fetch me a glass of ale, wine, whatever. I'm going to drink until I'm dead. All problems are solved then." The younger man just scoffed in the direction of his best friend.

"I doubt that. I wish you hadn't gotten involved with Tudor. By the way I'm not your waitress to serve you like that. It would be degrading!"

The accountant was insolently laughing at the poor (literally at that very moment), highly confused businessman who had been almost as wealthy as an oligarch in the past. That past was merry, it must be admitted.

"I beg you, idiot! Shut your talkative mouth up! Otherwise I will fire you at once!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ferdinand. I haven't gotten MY wages which I have earned with my own bloody hands for TWO months. I'm working as a volunteer because you, my boss, messed up with the mobsters!"

It seemed that Eustace was in a very poor financial state himself as he had become incredibly sassy!

His superior flew into a rage. The older man's face became as red as spicy peppers. He looked at his wrinkled masculine hands which had started to shake as a result of his increasing anger. Ferdinand Trastamara was on edge. The large vein on his thick neck pulsated while his heart quickly pumped hot, Spanish blood.

"Get out of my sight! And you can forget about my daughter as a wife for your weak and hopeless son! She is a great match! Too great for your boy, as plain as..." Before he could finish his sentence, both of them heard a loud knocking at the door. The host tried to regain his regal composure, which he had mastered to pure perfection. Nevertheless, Ferdinand's legs were still trembling horribly under the desk. Meanwhile, Chapuys smoothed down the flaps of his black suit.

"Come in." The dark-haired man decided to invite the intruders inside. A few seconds later the massive, wooden door was flung widely open, a gleam of artificial light illuminating the study. Ferdinand noticed three masculine bodies dressed properly for the settled event. In front of them stood an old woman, the housekeeper, Elvira Manuel, dressed in her regular black dress and an apron which reached her plump breasts, simple frills on the edges, all as white as the snow during the winter season. Feminine, although extremely chubby palms were folded neatly before her rotund form.

"Mr. Henry Tudor, sir," the servant said, boldness in her official tone, waiting patiently for instructions.

Ferdinand became as pale as a corpse when he heard THAT name. His high forehead was immediately covered with a cold sweat when the three men emerged from the ominous darkness. He could barely swallow the lump that had clenched in his throat.

"You can go," he said to Elvira without looking at her. After the older woman's departure, the mobsters entered the room and the youngest one, George Boleyn, locked the door. Eustace Chapuys panicked, feeling the urge to run away as fast as possible. Ferdinand was completely focused on the light, incredibly intense blue eyes which belonged to a handsome and extremely dangerous man. The king of the underworld. He was as elegant as always in his characteristic, tailored designer suit, an expensive silk tie around his neck.

"Well, well, well. It seems I wasn't invited to this exclusive party. It's unfair, isn't it, gentlemen?"

Henry Tudor started to pace steadily through the study. Long arms were folded behind him. The heels of his rich, leather shoes hit soundly against the marble floor. He was looking straight ahead, not focusing on anything in particular.

George Boleyn and Charles Brandon didn't move. Malicious smirks were plastered on their faces.

Neither Ferdinand nor Eustace dared to say a word. They were completely frozen to the spot.

"We heard that you and your beautiful wife were hosting this elegant party, so I decided to take this opportunity in order to speak with you, my dear friend. As we both know, you have something that belongs to me, don't you?"

The old man couldn't breath. Henry Tudor went on, still pacing.

"Where is my cash?" The mobster asked calmly, in his deep, rich voice. But that was only on the surface. Those who knew him well would notice that he was angry. Ferdinand, who couldn't move, was aware of that undisputed fact.

"I'm bankrupt. I have no money in my pockets."

"And you think I should show you sympathy?All these people here, in your fucking gardens, are dining on my dime!" Tudor raised his voice, causing dreadful shivers to run down the spines of two very scared men.

"I have an idea!" Henry spoke aloud. He was behaving as if he were a madman, moving restlessly. He would fly into a rage and then two seconds later would regain his composure. At that moment a mad smile was glued on his handsome face and a forefinger was raised into the air as straight as a chord.

"As far as I know you're the father of four daughters. I saw the photos on the walls. Pictures, pictures everywhere! The younger man started to gesticulate in the air. "I must congratulate you, you have gorgeous children and a beautiful wife. And since you aren't a lonely, or sad man, I could take one of your daughters as a guarantee that I will get my money back. What do you think, my dearest friend?"

Enraged, Ferdinand rose from his seat which he had occupied thus far. He placed his palms on the desk.

"Keep your dirty hands off my family!" He said, without looking at his enemy.

Henry glanced at his smooth hands in amusement. His hit man, ready to take action, pulled out his gun from underneath his leather jacket and pointed it at Ferdinand's head.

"Watch your language, dear friend. And if it comes to your children.. the youngest one is unmarried, isn't she? I could take care of her. We could have a lot of fun together... in my bed, for example. Would she enjoy that kind of entertainment?" Tudor laughed ruthlessly in Trastamara's face. The dark-haired man dropped into his armchair, completely helpless and silent.

"Put away your toys, George. Our friend will think about my offer and in the meantime we will have fun at the party. I want to see your daughter's beautiful gowns which I financed. I'm curious about their tastes. And I hope that you bought at least a few bottles of Krug Clos d'Ambonnay, because as you know, I'm a great fan of that champagne. I would have as the perfect host. We will help ourselves and you can finish your interesting argument. Sorry for interrupting." Henry Tudor was done. After his hit man put away his gun, the three of them departed, not bothering to close the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

In the corner of the luscious green gardens, close to a large square-shaped swimming pool, the Trastamara children had all gathered. The only son, John, was laughing freely and at the same time talking to his younger sisters. The young man was brown-haired, quite tall, with a medium build. A characteristic boyish smile was almost always present on his handsome face. Three of his siblings were standing around him. Isabella Aviz, the eldest one, had become more distant in recent years. Was the cause her cold and restrained husband, perhaps?

"Oh, how wonderful it is to be home!" John said aloud and started to inhale the fresh, summer breeze.

"Home, sweet home! All of us together here again!" He stated, glancing briefly at Isabella who stepped away a little.

"Well, four incredibly beautiful, grown women," John pointed out at his female siblings, "And me! An extremely handsome, courageous and awfully intelligent man!" He tapped his dressed chest. There was a serious look on his smooth face.

"And it's a shame that you're still single, brother." The older sister proposed a silent toast and then took a sip of her drink.

"Our Izzie, snappish as always. Take care of your own marriage." Joanna responded, hugging her older brother.

"My relationship is quite perfect. But sadly I can't say the same about yours, Jo. That terrible womanizer is flirting with another woman right now. I told you that it wouldn't be a good match but unfortunately you didn't want to listen."

Joanna Habsburg, an incredibly pretty and elegant woman and the mother of two small children turned her head in order to look at Philippe. She was madly in love with her husband and though his affairs were notorious she didn't even want to hear about a divorce. The woman had swore to herself that she would die in her husband's arms, but apparently Habsburg wasn't going to die in Joanna's.

The brunette stiffened immediately at John's side. Her gorgeous husband had put another invisible needle into her huge, loving heart and if it could, it would bleed profusely, full of open wounds which hadn't had time to heal. If not for John who had hugged her tightly from behind, she would have run in the direction where Philippe was whispering something into a feminine ear. Her brother's chin was resting on Joanna's bare shoulder. Her long, silver gown was shining in the artificial light of the lamps.

"Stay calm, be bold and then nothing is going to break you, as our mother always says."

John was trying to soothe his sister's nerves but her entire body was trembling horribly. The rest of their siblings, including Isabella, were watching the scene with tangible sorrow. The youngest one, Katherine shared a special bond with Joanna as she was her favorite sister besides Maria and that's why her elegant, feminine form had started to burn from its center. Katie, kind, sweet Katie wanted to slap her brother-in-law across the face with all her strength.

"I'm fine, John. You can loosen your grip over my waist. And I won't stand your compassion anymore. It happens. Alfonso is so distant and extremely cold that you can freeze in his presence and my Philippe is a hot one. Too hot. He is filled with a fire that could burn a man. And as you see, I'm really tan." Joanna was trying to be funny but it was obvious that she was devastated. She had tightened her fists so hard that her knuckles had turned as white as milk.

"I will fetch you a glass of your favorite wine to prove my goodwill, sister. You must have a drink." Isabella added after a few seconds and then went in the direction where a long table covered with a valuable, elegant cloth was settled. Different kinds of the finest alcohols were available in order to please the most important guests.

"I suppose it's high time to change the subject, don't you think?" Katherine voiced the first sensible thought that had come to mind. John slowly released Joanna from his grip and came closer to the youngest of the Trastamara children, tangible adoration present on his merry face.

"I always said that this girl is as smart as the devil. I remember when you were a baby and the three of us would lean over your blue princess cradle to look at your petite form with utter interest. Only Maria was upset because she couldn't reach our level being two years old." The siblings burst out into hysterical laughter.

"I wanted to marry her in adulthood! And unfortunately Maurice will take my place."

"Your jokes are disgusting, Johnny. And still I like them!" Maria Aviz said to her older brother who blew her a kiss.

"By the way, don't you think it's odd? Katherine and Maurice as spouses? It's like you are going to marry your own brother." Maria was sincerely concerned about Katherine's happiness. She and her husband, Manuel had fallen in love with each other freely despite the fact that Ferdinand was the one who had organized their first meeting. The redhead felt embarrassed for some reason when it came to talking about her unique bond with her best friend.

"Don't exaggerate! Maurice Chapuys is a good match. Especially for Katie. My passion for Philippe was as strong as a hurricane and now I'm a wronged wife. Passion fades." Joanna responded, placing her hands over her wide hips. A sad smile was plastered on her soft lips.

"Yeah, I have to agree with Jo." John said after a minute of considering different options.

"Joanna isn't objective at all. She ships them. You can't tell me that you chose Katherine and Maurice as the godparents for Charles by accident!" The brunette pointed out being completely satisfied with herself.

"Well, it's a very practical solution. All of us are well aware of the fact that they will be together anyway." Mrs. Habsburg stated and started to become impatient, waiting for Izzie who had gone to bring her some delicious wine.

"Your way of thinking is invalid, sister," Katherine noticed, "John and Margaret are the godparents of little Eleanor although they don't like each other. When it comes to me and Chapuys – we aren't engaged yet." Kate observed resolutely.

"John is fond of Margie, he acts like he doesn't like her but it isn't the truth." Maria Aviz smiled slyly in the direction of her brother. She wanted to see him be happy with a kind, loving woman.

"Let's change the subject, girls. Look, Katherine, your suitor is coming over. He's charming, isn't he? That elegant black suit, expensive white shirt, lack of tie and shiny, leather shoes. The perfect man for my baby sister." John pointed out at his childhood friend with both of his hands.

"Yes, I admit it. He looks good. I love him in my own way. And who uses the word suitor these days anyway?"

"I like to use ancient words and phrases... And I'm not ashamed of myself for my preferences."

The four of them started to laugh while Isabella came back to where they were gathered, two glasses filled with the finest of alcohols in her feminine palms.

"I'm curious why you all dyed your hair? All of us always had a wonderful auburn color..." Katherine couldn't understand why her sisters didn't like their natural hue.

"Excuse me! I have never been a redhead. Thank God! Red isn't a color, it's a temper! And as we all know I'm a serene, compliant and very handsome man, son, brother, uncle, whatever.."

"Why are you all so merry?" Isabella asked, completely surprised.

"What did you expect? Should we all be in despair because you were gone?" Joanna joked, taking her drink from her sister.

* * *

Henry Tudor, the boss of the criminal underworld took a glass of whiskey from a waiter, looking with curiosity at the crowd of elegant people, dressed in their expensive crisp suits and velvet designer dresses, gold Swiss watches sitting on their wrists. Tudor's faithful companions were at his side as always; George Boleyn, the husband of his first cousin, Jane Parker, whom he had married in order to get more respect and financial benefits and Charles Brandon, Henry's right hand, a young lawyer who was excelling in this prestigious field of humanities.

"Why are you so thoughtful, boss?" The young Boleyn asked, taking a sip of his strong drink.

"I must say Ferdinand has decent taste but is this the best my money can buy?" Henry asked sarcastically, playing with a glass in his right hand.

George and Charles couldn't help laughing.

"Decent taste? Are you serious? He has the finest wines, the finest food and the finest guests!" Brandon exclaimed enthusiastically, pointing at a long table filled with food.

"And the finest chicks..." Boleyn added, gazing at the crowd, hoping to find a woman who was just waiting for him to come and ask for a one night stand.

"I could do better. I'm interested in one woman in particular." The boss answered, sipping his whiskey, looking straight at a dancing Katherine.

"Which one if you don't mind me asking..." Apparently George had failed to find a new lover among these sophisticated and rich women, becoming interested in his boss's words.

"The redhead over there, standing with that dark-haired gentleman; Ferdinand's youngest daughter. I recognize her from the photos on the wall. She looks even better in person." Henry pointed her out with his chin, then looked at his silk tie.

The hit-man glanced at the young woman, skepticism visible on his face.

"She isn't my type but I wouldn't mind sleeping with her anyway." He dared to say, furrowing his forehead.

"You're gross, George." Charles answered with disgust present in his deep voice but the corners of his mouth twitched. It was obvious the lawyer was amused.

"Happily, she is my type, George."

"Unhappily you aren't her father's type, boss." Young Boleyn decided to counter-attack his employer verbally, smiling presumptuously. Henry smiled back, showing his perfect white teeth.

"You see, George, that's part of the fun." Tudor only said and then glanced at the undoubtedly expensive crystal glass which he was holding elegantly. The cold, noble liquid barely covered the bottom of the glass. He shook it delicately to mix the rest of his drink.

"George, don't exaggerate! Ferdinand is greedy, he would sell his own mother if anyone wanted to buy her! Yes, I have heard, he is really fond of his children, of this daughter in particular but... He still owes Henry money..." Charles Brandon said his own piece, though he wasn't really interested in the conversation. Maybe he was thinking about the love of his life who seemed to be within his reach... Who knows...

"Don't fall in love with her, Henry! Otherwise you could lose your cash." George was trying to be reasonable – and that fact was terrifying, like the perspective of spending all night in the forest, completely alone. The eldest of Thomas's children and common sense put in the same sentence? That's an oxymoron.

"Don't be ridiculous, George. I'm not going to fall in love with her. Business is business." The boss of the English mafia responded, a sarcastic laugh escaping from his perfectly shaped mouth. Henry put his left hand into the pocket of his black Armani suit – he seemed to be bored with the whole situation, looking bluntly at the view in front of him.

Maurice had asked Katherine to dance the tango with him – Isabella, a dancer by profession, had decided that all of her siblings should learn how to dance, at least that wonderful, passionate, Argentine dance. Maurice had always been like another brother for the Trastamara children, so he had learned along with them.

Katherine was in Maurice's arms, dancing gracefully on the wooden dance floor which her father had ordered built for that occasion. The silver booties on her delicate, feminine feet were moving rhythmically while the orchestra played a variety of instruments. Her long, green gown, made of valuable, silk fabric, fortunately wasn't an obstacle for her casual treading. The heels of her leather shoes tapped on the floorboard, the sound drowned out by the waves of sophisticated music. Katherine's dress was draped nicely around her perfectly shaped body. It had to be an enticing view for the men in the audience.

Boleyn and Brandon glanced over their shoulders, following Henry's hungry sight which was focused on the voluptuous feminine form of the redhead who was enjoying herself on the wooden dance floor with her partner.

"Yeah...But you are going to invite her to your bed, aren't you?" The most talented hit-man in the world asked the question, though it was merely a rhetorical question because all three men already knew the answer.

"Perhaps. I can imagine poor Ferdinand's face..and that only gives me more incentive to do so." The mobster's gorgeous face in that moment was the epitome of cruelty and amusement. He didn't like Ferdinand Trastamara and wanted to tease the poor, old man – no matter what kind of action he would have to take. Using Ferdinand's beautiful, graceful daughter sexually could be the best option and the most pleasurable.

"I'm curious about one thing..." Henry's fiancee's brother hadn't been able to remain quiet longer than a few short minutes.

"About what?" Unexpectedly, Tudor's best friend regained his senses which had seemed to be lost in a daydream, full of women, of course.

"Do you think that she likes what our boss likes the most?" The man again wanted to be funny. Such a pity that what he found amusing wasn't always funny to the people around him.

"And tell me, George, what do I like the most?" Henry inquired with honest curiosity shining in his intense blue eyes.

"Well.. you like being pleased...?" It was obvious that the sweet brother of Henry's future bride hadn't thought for long before this troublesome sentence escaped from his mouth.

"You have no tact, George." Brandon admitted, shaking his head before taking a sip of his drink. He liked acting like he was a saint himself, particularly standing next to that sinner – George Boleyn. Though Brandon wasn't a good boy at all.

"You really don't. I suppose I'll find out." Henry voiced his thoughts, not breaking his eye contact with the scene in the middle of the gardens, filled with loud music, performed by an orchestra.

George glanced over his shoulder, covered with his leather jacket, to look at Katherine once again with a grimace on his face like the dancing woman was a monster – making sure that his specific speculations were true.

"I don't think so. She surely doesn't like that kind of activity..." He spoke, still following the graceful moves of the dancing couple.

"And what? You can tell just by looking at her? Come on, George." The boss scoffed, laughing throatily at his companion's words.

"Yes I can! The first time I met your cousin - my beloved wife - I knew: she didn't like that!" Young Boleyn exclaimed, not embarrassed at all. He didn't bother considering other people's thoughts about his inappropriate attitude at such a sophisticated party as this one.

"Yet, you married her anyway. Clearly, you had other priorities." Tudor reminded him.

"You wanted me to marry her, so I did. To tell you the truth I'm not especially fond of her but I know you love her and it was a kind of social promotion for me..." George was trying to explain his resentment towards Jane Boleyn nee Parker. His face became red. Apparently embarrassment overwhelmed him completely.

"Well, you must cope with it, man!" Brandon said his own piece, raising a glass to George before drinking the rest of his wine, taking one immense sip. An evil smile was glued to Charles's handsome face.

"Surely the financial benefits were enticing too." One of the most dangerous mobsters in history said absentmindedly. His head seemed to be occupied with something else other than the conversation with his friends. But this fact didn't make George feel less embarrassed.

"Henry, she finished her dance. That's your chance!" Charles became tired of talking about George's arranged marriage and his miserable life with adorable Jane – that's why he decided to wake Henry up from his lethargy. Despite the fact that young Tudor was looking straight at the red-haired figure, Brandon had the impression that his best friend wasn't aware of that.

"You're right. Excuse me." He handed his drink to Charles and strode confidently across the room to where Katherine and Maurice were standing together, having finished their dance.

"Excuse me, Madame. You're an excellent dancer, I must say. You have my compliments." He said smoothly and with his polished grace.

Katherine looked over at him with curiosity. He was a handsome man, there was no doubt about that, with his intense blue eyes that were staring into her own unflinchingly and without any hesitation and irresistible, kissable lips set into an aesthetically pleasing face. He was the picture of cool elegance and sophistication in his sharp, black Armani suit; a man who was no doubt used to such refinement and who wore it well, like a second skin.

"Thank you, sir. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name." She replied gracefully, tilting her head slightly to the side, still looking at him with interest and curiosity though it was hidden behind a mere politeness.

At once he was apologetic and offered her a smile, an effortless twist of his lips, but for some reason it made her heart race, her blood flow faster.

"I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself first. Henry Tudor. Nice to meet you."

She offered a quick smile in return.

"Katherine Trastamara, nice to meet you too, Henry, if you don't mind me calling you that. This is my best friend." She pointed at Maurice standing by her side, looking over at Henry. There was something in his eyes, a certain protectiveness towards Katherine as he looked at him.

"Maurice Chapuys." He stuck out his hand, offering it to Henry to shake.

"Not at all, if you don't mind me calling you Katherine." He turned to Maurice, shaking his hand, ever the gentleman. There was something familiar about the young, handsome, dark-haired man that Henry couldn't quite place at first, until it hit him.

"Nice to meet you. Chapuys, are you Ferdinand's accountant's son?" There was almost a hint of disdain in his tone that could be subtly detected if one listened carefully enough. The accountant was at least more sensible than his employer but still, he worked for Ferdinand.

Maurice smiled faintly and nodded. He had listened carefully enough. "You make it sound like a despicable thing to be, but yes, I am my godfather's accountant's son."

"I thought so. I can see the resemblance." Henry simply replied. There was something he didn't like about the dark-haired man but he couldn't figure out what yet.

"And you are this Tudor the heir, aren't you? I had the pleasure to stay at one of your hotels. Excellent service, I must say."

Well, at least he has good taste, Henry thought.

"Yes, that's me. Thank you. My family takes great pride in our hotels." The mobster had inherited a line of successful, luxury hotels that attracted the cream of society upon his father's death and he took pride in having made them even better. He was not only skilled in his family's messier business but he was also an excellent businessman.

"That is something to be proud of, Henry." Katherine replied, watching the interaction between Henry and Maurice.

"Certainly. Does your family take pride in other businesses of yours? I suppose that it does." Maurice returned coolly in a not so subtle hint at his blood-stained line of work.

Katherine laughed at that.

Ah, a reason had just presented itself to Henry for his dislike of Eustace's son. He smiled but his blue eyes had hardened ever so slightly.

"I suppose you're right, Maurice. I certainly do." Henry had never been one to feel ashamed of what his family did for a living but he didn't appreciate the reference coming from Maurice.

Katherine looked from one man to the other. "Maurice, don't be so rude towards our guest. What he does for a living is his private business. Not yours. You're our guest, dear Henry but I'm not able to recall your surname on our list which I assembled myself." She said, trying to keep the conversation amicable.

Henry smiled."I suppose I'm a last minute addition. I came to visit your father, a recent friend of mine and he asked me to stay and enjoy this lovely party of his." It was more accurate to say that he had invited himself to this lovely party against Ferdinand's wishes and that "friendly" meeting they had shared in his office was still fresh in his mind, bringing him some measure of amusement.

"So I hope you're enjoying our humble party. I'm certain you have been to the finest parties which I can only imagine."

"Don't be so modest, Katie. You're high class." Maurice reminded her.

"I am, thank you. It's hardly humble and this conversation has certainly made it even more enjoyable." He said, looking straight at her, leaving no doubt as to who he was referring to.

"Oh, so are you implying that my friend is a really lovely person? I have to agree. He is. Though he can seem rough a little." There was a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I'm sure he is, but I was talking about you."

"It's a pleasure to hear those words coming from a man like you." A man she was sure knew the effect he could have on women and one who surely had no problem finding someone to warm his bed.

Henry raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "A man like me? And what kind of man is that?"

"I think women can find you attractive. And I'm talking about your indisputable intelligence." For Katherine was sure that besides his good looks he had a sharp, calculating mind. It was easy to see in the way he observed people, with a sharp eye and no doubt sharp perceptions.

He dipped his head in acknowledgment of her words. "Well, I can say the same about you. Anyone can see that you're an attractive, intelligent woman, a very talented dancer as well."

Katherine let out a laugh, an airy, light sound that was pleasing to his ears. She wondered how many women he had told that same line to. "Are you trying to flatter me? My sister is an excellent dancer, a dancer by profession. I'm only a sinologist."

"It doesn't matter what your profession is, I know a good dancer when I see one." He insisted.

Katherine arched an eyebrow, her head tilting to the side. "Now, I'm curious about your dancing skills."

"Ah, they are sharper than your previous partner's, I'm sure." He couldn't help saying. He knew precisely what his skills were and he had no problem talking about them, giving him an air of arrogance.

"Are you so sure of your talents?" Katherine asked. She didn't find his arrogance very becoming, the opposite in fact.

His lips tugged into a smirk. "Oh, I'm pretty sure. Just name the dance." He held out his hand to her.

"I think you should choose. I'm afraid I will make a bad choice and then your indisputable talent wouldn't turn out to be as spectacular as you like to boast about."

An amused laugh escaped from his throat. "You let me worry about my indisputable talent, Katherine. I see your tongue is as sharp as your dancing. Very well. The tango."

"Is that the only dance you're able to perform?" She would enjoy bringing his confidence down a level or two.

Henry was almost tempted to say that he could teach her a very different dance, much more intimate than the tango and one that involved less clothing but he held his tongue.

"Why? Is it a problem? Is the tango too intimate?" He inquired, waiting for her answer, the hint of a challenge dancing in his intense blue eyes.

"Of course not!" Came her response. Katherine was not willing to back down from this challenge.

"Then, shall we?"

"Yes." She placed her delicate hand into his as he lead her out onto the wooden dance floor. The orchestra struck up a tango, the rhythmic and lively sounds of that passionate dance filled the room as the other guests turned to watch the performance. Their feet moved in a quick but graceful unison as their bodies came into close contact. Henry could feel the heat radiating from her body when she was in his arms and he could smell the sweet scent of her perfume and it was intoxicating. It almost made him lose his focus but not quite. He was able to keep pace with her perfectly. Meanwhile Ferdinand had come into the garden, noticing the pair dancing, his forehead covered in sweat. He was worried about his daughter. The last notes of the music were played and fading, the dance coming to an end. Henry turned to Katherine and placed a kiss on her hand.

"Thank you for the pleasure of this dance, Katherine. I trust it was performed to your satisfaction?"

Katherine smiled faintly, coolly. "I wouldn't be so sure in your place."

Henry didn't bat an eyelash at that remark, remaining the composed gentleman. "Ah, well, I suppose you'll have to teach me the art of the tango then."

"I doubt I will have an occasion for teaching you the art of the tango. You'll have to find another teacher, Mr. Tudor." Katherine said formally in a distant, dismissive tone.

"That's a shame for I enjoyed dancing with you, Ms. Trastamara. My younger sister is a dancer, but I doubt she would be much help with the tango; she's a professional ballerina."

"She won't be helpful indeed. My sister and her husband have a dance school, maybe they will give you some advice if you ask." She suggested to him.

"I think I'll take my chances with the skills I already have. Is that your father I see coming over?" Henry asked as he spotted Ferdinand coming toward them. He almost wanted to smile in amusement. He assumed the man was nervous about him conversing with his youngest daughter and the thought that this was causing Ferdinand stress gave him pleasure. Maybe it would hasten the older man to his senses and he would give his money back sooner.

"Yes, that's my father. I assume you would like to come with me and say hello since you're friends, wouldn't you?" Katherine asked him, glancing over at her father.

"I would love to." He simply replied and she had no idea how much that was true.

They came closer to Ferdinand. Henry smiled at him, a hint of the amusement he felt played in his eyes.

"Look who I met, father. It's your recent friend, isn't it?" Katherine gave her father a genuine smile, coming to stand beside him.

Ferdinand started to become nervous, anxiety clawing in the pit of his stomach but he was trying to hide it. He didn't want his daughter to think anything was wrong and become alarmed.

"Yes, I see. Good evening, Henry. I hope you're enjoying my party. And where are your companions?" he looked around for the two men anxiously.

"Hello, Ferdinand. I'm enjoying the party very much, thanks to your lovely daughter. I'm afraid I've lost track of them. No doubt they are around, enjoying the party and chatting with your fine guests." He said amicably. He was enjoying watching Ferdinand squirm.

Ferdinand embraced Katherine tightly, which was a message for Henry while Maurice was standing there looking thoughtful. Isabella, Katherine's mother, noticed her husband and came over to all of them, full of curiosity.

"Good evening, sir. I noticed all of you talking and I decided to come and introduce myself because I believe we don't know each other yet." She said delicately. She was a woman of grace and poise, still beautiful even at her age and her elegant bearing commanded respect.

"Yes, darling, this is my recent friend, Henry Tudor. I forgot to mention him when we were assembling our guest list." Ferdinand told his wife, trying to remain calm.

"Shame on you, husband!" Isabella admonished her husband, smiling at Henry.

"Indeed, what a shame Ferdinand. You should have introduced your lovely wife sooner. It's a pleasure to meet you, Madame." He said smoothly, dipping his head in greeting. It was said that the only person Ferdinand feared more than Henry was his wife and Henry could see why. He sensed that Isabella was a cunning and formidable woman.

"It's a pleasure for me as well, Mr. Tudor." Isabella had the faint recollection of reading about him in the newspapers but she didn't let it show and remained polite, "I saw you dancing with my daughter." She looked at Katherine.

"Yes. She's a great dancer, though I don't think she was very pleased with my dancing." Henry admitted to her.

Isabella looked from Katherine to Henry. "Why is that?"

Katherine smiled faintly. "Mr. Tudor lost his modesty somewhere. He is too blunt. Aren't you?"

"Don't be so hard on him, darling. A man should know his own worth. Isn't that what I always taught you?"

Katherine nodded. "It is, dear mother. But you also taught me that sometimes I should put my own pride and arrogance in my pocket." She told her.

Isabella smiled at her proudly, a light coming into her eyes when she looked at her youngest daughter.

"Oh, I take great pride in all of my children. I wish you the same, Mr. Tudor, when you become a father one day."

"I hope your arrogance won't be an obstacle in finding a wife." Katherine told him sharply, meeting his eyes.

Ferdinand and Maurice only smiled with satisfaction.

"Such a sharp tongue my daughter has!"

Henry locked eyes with Katherine and smiled faintly. She might have intended the opposite but the sharper her tongue was the more he desired her.

"Indeed, Mrs. Trastamara. I don't think it's much of an obstacle, I haven't heard any complaints. My other, more favorable traits seem to make up for that particular flaw."

"I'm happy to have met you, Mr. Tudor but now, excuse me, my guests are waiting for me. I hope you will join me, husband, in a while." She said, looking at her husband.

"Of course, sweetheart."

"It was a pleasure, Mrs. Trastamara." Henry placed a light kiss on her hand.

Isabella walked away and then John came closer, a glass filled with wine in his hand.

"Good evening, sir. I believe you're this businessman, Henry Tudor, aren't you?" He asked, looking at Henry with curiosity, dressed in his elegant suit for the fine occasion as all the guests were.

"You're right. Henry, this is my son." Ferdinand introduced them warily.

"John Trastamara, nice to meet you." He held out his hand.

Henry shook his hand politely."Nice to meet you too, John. Your father throws quite the party, doesn't he?" He said to make polite conversation, despite the fact that he thought Ferdinand had only decent taste.

"Yes, he does. Nice dance with my sister, I must admit."

Katherine became bored and annoyed with the conversation and she wanted to say goodbye but then Joanna and Philippe started to argue loudly, drawing everyone's attention to them. Before the redhead was able to finish the conversation with a recent friend of her father in a proper manner, the chaotic screams had erupted into the air.

Joanna started to shout wildly at her unfaithful husband who again had tried to seduce a young woman, this time it was the daughter of Ferdinand's friend, a very powerful and significant friend.

"I'm not going to tolerate your cheating anymore. The cheating which you're doing in front of my family and my parents' friends! How could you, Philippe?!" She cried pathetically, grasping her husband possessively by his satin tie. Habsburg removed her delicate palm violently and then tightened his grip on her waist.

"Stop making a scene! Nobody wants to see you crying about my affairs, your father in particular since you have dared to offend his goddaughter!" He whispered maliciously straight into her ear.

"I don't care if she is my father's goddaughter or the Mother of God! As long as she is willing to open her legs for you, I hate her, I despise her! Do you hear me, Caroline Harrison?!" Joanna turned her head in the direction where a group of guests were gathered.

"We were running around together in my parents' gardens but I despise you, you shameless whore who wants to take my love away from me! You have slept with him already, haven't you, you blonde trollop!?" She wasn't able to control herself. She had evidently drank too much.

Philippe grasped her arm, digging his nails into her rosy skin. Joanna only laughed aloud like a madwoman. Salty tears appeared in her shining eyes, eyes full of hatred towards every strange woman in the garden.

"Are you well and truly drunk that you don't even feel the pain, wife?" His teeth were clenched tightly in anger which was shaking his masculine body. "How could you drink so much wine?! You are breastfeeding your little son, don't you remember, woman?!"

Joanna Habsburg burst out into rampageous laughter.

"I don't breastfeed him anymore. I've lost my milk because I was too stressed to keep it! And of course you didn't notice being too busy fucking your vulgar secretary!" She started to sob loudly, resting her head on his wide arm, wrapped in the black expensive fabric of his elegant, designer suit. Hot tears were running down her red, unhealthily warm cheeks, soaking her husband's clothes. Philippe became resigned and loosened his grip over her arm. Fiery red marks were visible on Joanna's uncovered body, caused by Philippe's violence.

"Sometimes I would like to..." He started, however he wasn't able to finish the sentence because Joanna interrupted him.

"What? Slap me?! No, I want to slap you!" She slapped her husband as she said she would while he stood humbly, hardly touching her free hand. She also punched him in the chest and he didn't respond to that action in any way. Joanna was beating Philippe profusely going into a rage again.

Ferdinand, who was standing beside Katherine, face to face with his friend who in reality was a dangerous enemy, seemed to be worried about his older daughter. He was also ashamed of himself because of the names which Joanna had dared to call innocent Caroline.

"John, help your sister, please. She isn't doing well."

"Of course," he handed his drink to Maurice, "excuse me."

John didn't hesitate a moment, came closer and at first started to shout at Philippe, who abruptly walked away. He covered her with his own marine suit jacket and then kissed her on the forehead.

Isabella the mother quickly found herself beside her dear daughter, embracing her with a mother's love.

Henry at first didn't know if he should laugh at this weird situation which had taken place in front of him or if he should feel annoyed.

The one feeling which acclimatized in his heart – because he had a heart against common belief – was sympathy for this poor, beautiful woman who suffered due to her husband's actions.

How ironic! He himself wasn't without sin – he cheated on Mary Boleyn frequently and what was worst of all – with indisputable pleasure.

A worried frown had appeared on Katherine's face, as she was concerned about her sister's wellbeing. "Well, I have to go as well."

"Of course. Goodnight, Katherine."

"Goodnight." She took Maurice by the hand and he wasn't able to say goodbye. Kate went over to her sister, comforting her with an embrace.

Ferdinand and Henry stayed alone.

"Leave her alone, Tudor." he only said and walked away.

Henry only laughed at that, watching him walk away. What a strange and interesting night, he thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 **London, Present Day**

It was a rare sight these days, seeing Henry Tudor at home in the late afternoon, but he had made it a point to come home early today in light of his wife's constant accusations that he didn't spend enough time with his family, that he was too wrapped up in the businesses he had inherited from his late father and the running of his criminal empire. He also had a surprise for his daughter that he was sure she would be delighted about and with that in mind, he stepped into the elegantly decorated living room of his immaculate and huge house. Sitting next to each other on the expensive, brown leather sofa was Katherine and her best friend, the eternally insufferable (in Henry's mind), Maurice Chapuys, sipping their drinks in merry contentment. The dark-haired younger man's presence was like a dark cloud, blotting out Henry's sunny mood. He couldn't deny that he felt a surge of jealously seeing the two of them together looking so content, considering the marital problems he and Kate were having and how lately the theme of their conversations always eventually came around to his profession and his absence as a father (or so it seemed that way to Henry).

"Well, you two look the very image of bliss. I hope I'm not interrupting your happy moment," he said to announce his presence, a slight edge creeping into his tone.

Katherine turned to look in his direction at the sound of his voice. "Oh, hello, Henry," she greeted, surprised to see her husband home so early.

"Daddy! You're back!" The enthusiastic voice of his daughter greeted him as she came running up to him, her long brown hair flying behind her. Henry smiled at the sight of his little girl, he adored her enthusiasm and her cheerfulness; she always brightened his mood with her presence and he bent down to place a kiss on her cheek.

"Hi, sweetheart! I've missed you, how are you doing?"

"My beloved uncle Maurice paid a visit in order to play with us!" She exclaimed happily, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with the unbridled joy of a child.

"Yes, I see that. Did you have fun?" He asked, taking care not to let his feelings about the man show, for Mary adored her "uncle" and Maurice adored her in turn. In fact, he adored all of Katherine's children and enjoyed spending time with them whenever he could.

"Yes!"

Henry smiled. "I'm glad. And how is your wrist?" He asked, his gaze dropping to the pink cast wrapped around his daughter's small and delicate wrist, injured on the playground and he felt pinpricks of guilt again for not having been there with her at the hospital when she needed him. He had made a whispered promise to make it up to her and he intended to do just that.

"Fine, it doesn't hurt," Mary replied lightly. The little girl didn't seem to harbor any resentment towards her father for his absence at the hospital but the forgiveness of an innocent and naïve child was easily won after all.

"That's good, sweetheart. Where are your brothers?" He asked.

"They will come in a while," Mary answered.

"I see. Will you be staying for dinner, Maurice?" Henry asked in an attempt to be polite, all the while hoping he would turn down the invitation; he didn't have the desire to sit through an awkward dinner trying to make polite conversation all evening.

"No, I have to go," Maurice replied, setting his drink down on the coffee table and getting up from his spot on the sofa.

Henry was relieved. "Have a nice day then."

"Yeah, have a nice day as well," Maurice politely said before saying his goodbyes to Katherine and Mary and heading out.

"I have some gifts for you all," Henry announced, lips curving into a wide smile as he reached a hand out to stroke Mary's hair. He had always enjoyed seeing his children's reactions to the many gifts he had given them over the years, he was fond of spending money on his wife and children in general; perhaps it was a way of easing his guilty conscience about not spending enough time with them.

Little Mary was practically brimming with excitement and anticipation at the announcement, her blue eyes widening. "What is it, what is it?!"

Before Henry could say anything further, his two sons, twelve-year old Edward and his younger brother Owen walked into the living room, joining the rest of their family. Henry was happy to see them and couldn't wait to give them their gifts. The boys were happily surprised to see their father home already as well.

"Hello dad!" Owen greeted as he came up to his father.

"Hello, it's nice to see you coming back so soon. Where is uncle Maurice? I wanted him to help me with Math, he had promised me," Edward said.

"He had to go, sweetheart," Katherine told her son.

Henry didn't miss the disappointment that had come over Edward's face. "Hello, boys. Maybe I could help you, Edward, I'm good with numbers," he offered.

"If you want," Henry's eldest son replied casually.

It stung a little that his son thought that he might not want to help him with his homework. "I do. I have some gifts, I'll be right back."

Mary clasped her hands as she waited for him to return. Henry had left the gifts in the care of one of his many bodyguards and after a few moments full of sweet anticipation, he returned to the elegant living room with a small puppy squirming in his arms, as white as snow and as cute as a button, along with a shopping bag in his hand.

"A Maltese!" Little Mary squealed with delight in a high-pitched voice upon seeing the dog, her entire face lighting up.

Owen was excited about the dog as well. "Wow! Did you buy it for me?" He asked hopefully.

"It's for Mary but of course you can play with it too," Henry replied as he set the shopping bag in his hand down on the floor by his feet and stroked the puppy's soft and fluffy head, much to the little dog's delight.

"Oh, really!? It's for me?!" There was even more excitement in her voice than before, if that was possible.

"Like always... Edward and I get only leftovers," Owen said with resentment. He knew that Mary was her father's favorite and that Daddy's pearl was always doted on and that was a source of tension for Mary's big brother.

"Don't exaggerate. You have never wanted to have a dog," Edward insisted.

Katherine didn't look very pleased with the new addition to the Tudor family. "A puppy for a 4 year old little girl? It wasn't reasonable. You could have asked me first. She is a child, she can hurt him unintentionally," she admonished with disapproval in her low, feminine voice. She didn't think a puppy was a good idea, at least not until Mary was older but she knew why Henry had bought the gift, he wanted to make it up to Mary for not being there for her. Katherine believed a gift couldn't make up for his absence and the lost time, not truly.

"No, mommy, I won't. Please, let me keep him," Mary begged, pleading with her mother, "I will be a good mom!" She promised.

"... it's an animal, dear child," Owen said dryly to his sister.

"I know but since he doesn't have his mom anymore, I will be his mom," she replied sweetly and confidently. She already loved her little puppy and was eager to take on her role as his new mom.

"she'll be careful, Kate. Look at the puppy, isn't it cute?" He asked, holding the puppy up for her. The little dog looked at her curiously with its sweet black eyes, it looked almost like it was imploring her to love it.

"Indeed..," Katherine looked at the dog without enthusiasm, "well, is it a boy?"

"Yes, and he's very sweet," Henry said and he could see that she was looking at the dog with more interest.

The more she looked at the puppy and its sweet black eyes the more her resolve weakened. "Yeah, he is," she finally conceded, coming closer and taking the puppy from Henry. "Hello, baby! How are you? You're such a sweet, white puppy, aren't you?" She cooed.

"Yes, he is!" Mary agreed.

"Have you bought things for him?" Katherine asked Henry as she settled back onto the sofa, the puppy still in her arms.

"Of course. I see you're warming up to him."

"Indeed. Are you going to sleep with me, baby?" Katherine asked, petting the puppy's head. He licked the smooth flesh of her other hand in gratitude for the affection.

"Me?" Mary inquired.

"No, him!" Owen replied to his little sister.

Mary wasn't pleased with that answer. "No, he is mine, I will sleep with him!" She said adamantly.

"Of course you will, Mary, sweetheart. What are you going to name him?" Henry asked his little girl, waiting for her answer in curiosity.

The brunette took a moment to think about her answer. "hmmmm... Teddie!" She replied.

Henry smiled. "I like it, he is as soft and sweet as a teddy bear. Oh, let me give out the rest of the gifts," he said, remembering the shopping bag by his feet that had momentarily been forgotten in the excitement surrounding the new family pet. He handed out the rest of the gifts to Edward, Owen and his wife.

"Oh, I was about to buy that video game!" Owen exclaimed, holding the brand new video game that had just come out in his hands.

Edward looked down at the small, black camera that was his gift. "An Instax?" He said in surprise.

"What, you don't like it?" Henry asked with a bit of apprehension.

"I do. I'm just surprised," Edward replied.

"Why?"

"I didn't think that you knew me that well," Henry's eldest son replied truthfully.

Henry's heart clenched at those words, the words that cut straight through him. It hurt that his son had thought that his own father didn't know him well, as a parent was supposed to. It also reminded him of his own relationship with his father, he had thought the same thing about his father. The late Tudor patriarch had worked tirelessly to build his businesses and most of the time that had involved working into the late hours. There had been a distance in that father and son relationship and history was repeating itself. Edward looked just like him but he knew that his son didn't want to be anything like him. He was old enough to read the newspapers and what they said about his father and what he did for a living. Edward had seen him and Katherine arguing the night Mary had come home from the hospital and Henry remembered the way his son had looked at him, like he sensed something was wrong between his parents, and that his father was to blame.

"It turns out I do," Henry replied, at the very least happy that he had picked out a suitable gift for his son that had truly surprised him.

"That's good that your father knows you very well," Katherine interjected from her comfortable spot on the sofa.

"I know I work a lot but I pay attention. I hope you'll enjoy the camera," Henry told him earnestly.

"I will, thank you."

"you're very welcome," Henry said with a smile.

Edward sent his father a little smile in return. His siblings were sitting on either side of their mother on the sofa and playing with Teddie who seemed to be content, sitting on Katherine's warm lap.

"Teddie looks happy, I think he likes all the attention he's getting," Henry said as he observed the happy scene before him.

"Yes, he is lovely and sweet," Katherine commented. She had really warmed up to the pup and her earlier reservations were momentarily forgotten.

"Are you going to kiss him?" Mary asked innocently.

"No, I doubt he brushed his teeth, sweetie."

Henry let out an amused laugh. "I doubt Teddie's breath smells great either."

"I think Teddie is hungry. Let's go feed him, babies," Kate said, picking the dog up and starting to get off the sofa.

"Mom, I'm not a baby!" Owen protested sharply.

His brother begged to differ. "Oh, really? You like to sleep next to mom, so..."

"I like to but Mary is always more important!"

"She's not more important, Owi, you're as important as Mary is," Henry insisted.

"But she is your favorite." Owen knew that his little sister was special to their father and he loved to spoil her. She was the apple of their father's eye and Owen didn't like it.

Henry came closer to his son and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "You're my son and I love you, and you're as important as Mary is."

Owen smiled. "That's good."

"Alright, let's go feed the dog."

And off they went to spend the afternoon together as a family. There was warmth and laughter and the usual bickering between siblings, of course but everything felt right, like it was supposed to and the head of the Tudor family felt glad that he had come home earlier.

* * *

 **London, 1998**

On his way home Henry Tudor seemed to be inordinately thoughtful. However the scandalous performance that Joanna and Philippe had given as a duet at Ferdinand Trastamara's party wasn't the reason for his specific meditation. No. The young, indisputably beautiful woman dressed in a luxurious emerald colored gown, made of the most sumptuous fabric, emerged in his hard working mind. He thought of those sparkling round-shaped eyes – blue as the sky though with a delicate green hue, those feminine but not too vulgar curves of her absolutely gorgeous body, those pearly white teeth, long eyelashes, regular eyebrows and most importantly shiny, clearly healthy, auburn hair. It was nicely done – neither too short, nor too long – cascades of chestnut strands of hair were elegantly covering her delicate back, staying in thought of that subtle nose, perfect cheekbones and lips – oh, God, those huge lips which surely were smooth like silk itself and sweet like raspberries – all of these noble features aroused Henry. If it had been an appropriate thing to do, the boss of English mafia would have let the saliva seep from his kissable mouth.

The dark-haired man found himself feeling numb and rather insensitive to the jabbering that had erupted around him. Finally they reached the spacious driveway of Elizabeth's extravagant mansion. Before Henry was able to wake up from his pleasurable daydream, one of his muscular bodyguards had opened the door of his black Bentley.

"Boss?" The tall blonde bodyguard dared to ask, realizing that Henry hadn't reacted.

He nodded his head and slowly got out of the limo.

George pulled cigarettes out of his pocket, offering one to Charles who took it with pleasure. Henry glared at them with disgust as he strongly despised this kind of addiction. Nonetheless, he didn't have enough influence on his crew to dictate to them what they should or shouldn't do. Instead of giving them a sermon on the fatal effects of smoking he walked into his house through the white, marvelously crafted door that had been ordered and designed by his mother herself. The widow, Elizabeth Tudor nee York, had always been known as an artistic soul. Indeed, the formidable lady was both an interior designer and outstanding pianist by profession. Her projects and etudes had always been highly appreciated. She had raised her children to respect art of all sorts, especially music. Margaret Stewart, her eldest child, became a popular, extraordinarily talented architect, Arthur, the second son in line, graduated from the archeology, history and art history departments at one of the most prestigious English universities, Mary, the youngest kid of the family, was a professional Prima Ballerina while Henry, the eldest Tudor boy, had always been excellent at playing the piano and lute. Elizabeth was particularly close to her little Harry. Her little Harry, extremely talented and sensitive who had merely stroked the ivory colored, delicate surface of the instrument, and made the most fabulous noises of sophisticated music that Elizabeth had heard in her entire life.

"Like Mozart himself!" She had kept saying. "Like Mozart himself!"

Henry reached to his masculine neck, trying to loosen the luxurious, baby blue tie that had been precisely tangled around it since morning. The young man started to massage his tired, tensed nape.

Then the sound of erratic footsteps erupted in the living room that he had just walked into. No sooner had he looked up than a young, pretty woman emerged on the horizon with her arms outstretched widely in a welcoming gesture.

"Hello, sweetheart," Henry said, coming closer and giving his fiancee a small hug.

"Hello, honey. I was just about to put my wedding dress on. I'm glad you're home," the brunette responded, tenderly kissing Henry on the mouth, then grabbing his left palm.

"Me too. Did you have a fun evening?" He asked, barely touching her rosy, smooth cheek with his fingertips, which had been supposed to be a romantic gesture.

"Well, I did. Evenings with my sister, Mary, Jane and your mother are always excellent. Where have you been"? Mary Boleyn seemed to have no idea about her soon to be husband's recent problems.

"I was at Ferdinand Trastamara's party with George and Charles," Henry said, feigning nonchalance and running his right hand through his brown hair.

"He is a famous businessman, isn't he?" The dark-haired woman tilted her head, particularly interested in that matter.

"He owns restaurants, yes but most importantly he owes me money," the boss of the English mafia admitted.

"It sounds interesting, really... Why would someone like him, a very wealthy man, borrow money from you? It doesn't make any sense,"the future Mrs. Tudor retorted delicately, glancing at the love of her life suspiciously.

"He said he has a gambling problem," the dark-haired man answered.

"...I see." Mary decided to let it go despite the fact that his answer hadn't pleased her.

"Would you like a drink? You seem to be extremely exhausted. Though I hope it was only a business meeting, not just an excuse for another conquest," she added, seeming to be diffident.

"Yes, I would like a drink. Mary, relax, it was just business."

Mary was content with his response, kissing her man on his extremely kissable mouth again.

"Take a seat and I will make you a drink." Mary released his hand and walked away in the direction of the massive liquor cabinet, made of fruit wood, that was equipped with all sorts of expensive alcohol.

She started to bustle around the cabinet, standing behind the polished countertop. The sound of the glass hitting the countertop and alcohol hitting the bottom of its chalice echoed around the spacious living room.

Meanwhile, Henry sat down comfortably in a leather, beige colored sofa. To tell you the truth, he was only seemingly comfortable, deep down there was something had been bothering him ever since he left Ferdinand's estate. Maybe the love that he had had for Mary Boleyn for the last couple of years wasn't particularly fancy or passionate but he was pretty sure that their relationship was the best option for him. He had known her since childhood after all. She was pretty, smart, sweet, kind, loving but first and foremost OBEDIENT. He wouldn't be able to find a better candidate for a wife, would he? Then the redheaded daughter of Henry's recent debtor entered the scene. Everything about her was intriguing and appealing: appearance, personality, ambition, mental strength, the loveliness of her fragile body and... her tongue, as sharp as the tooth of a great white shark itself!

Suddenly Elizabeth Tudor appeared, wearing her velvet bottle green pajamas – a gift that she had gotten from Anne, Arthur's fiancee. A silk, white robe covered her back. Her silver strands of hair were tangled in a messy bun. She patted her eldest son's knee and took a seat next to him.

Henry glanced at her with fondness, sending her a slight smile, though it didn't reach his intense blue eyes.

"Hello, sweetheart. I was just about to go to bed but I heard that you had come back and I wanted to say goodnight."

"Hello, mother. Mary told me you girls had an excellent evening," Henry said as he grabbed his mother's feminine palm, planting a kiss on top of it.

Elizabeth looked up at Mary, tenderness and love were visible in her light blue eyes.

"Of course. You will have a gorgeous bride and a wonderful wife, son," The older woman stated, caressing Henry's cheek in a loving gesture. The special connection between mother and child was tangible as they stared at each other.

"Where have you been for so long, if you don't mind your old mother asking?" Elizabeth broke the blissful moment.

"I was at a party I hadn't been invited to, Ferdinand Trastamara's party. It was business," Henry responded while stroking the delicate, though a bit wrinkled, surface of his mom's hand. The expression on Elizabeth's face seemed to be thoughtful. It was clear she was thinking about something significant.

"Oh, the Trastamaras!" She patted her own head, like a person who couldn't believe they had forgotten or missed something ridiculously evident.

"Isabella Trastamara is a lawyer, isn't she? A good friend of mine taught her children at my music school. I believe Isabella and Ferdinand's only son is a great composer, one of their daughters is a violinist and the other one practiced opera singing." It sounded like Henry's mother was informed much better than Henry himself was.

"Yes, Isabella is a lawyer. Her children sound very talented. Opera singing, which daughter did that? She has four after all." The boss became interested in his mother's knowledge concerning the Trastamara family.

"Hmm, the youngest one, I believe. Beautiful young woman, absolutely gorgeous, she is Arthur's age," Elisabeth said, praising Katherine's appearance that she had taken after both her parents.

"Oh, you have seen her?" Henry was genuinely surprised. His mother only laughed at that.

"Yes, I had the pleasure."

"Where?" Henry became very inquiring, it was obvious he was interested in Katherine Trastamara's life.

"I adore her father's restaurants as you may know or not. The best ones here and even all over the world if I do say so. I was having lunch with your aunt when the whole family walked in to have their own meal. Ferdinand decided to introduce me to his children and wife that I had already known by sight," the older woman explained, patting her son's right shoulder. Then she stood up on her feet, letting him know that she was going to go to bed.

"I see. Very interesting. Well, goodnight, mother. Sleep well," he said, kissing his mother's hand once again.

"Goodnight son, goodnight Mary," Elizabeth responded, planting a chaste kiss on Henry's cheek, then doing the same to her future daughter-in-law and walking away in silence.

Tudor's fiancee stood completely frozen, carrying a glass of whiskey in her right palm. She didn't even react when Elizabeth said goodnight, letting her retire to her rooms, not paying much attention. Henry noticed Mary's current, odd condition.

"Mary? Are you ok?" He inquired, shifting a little on the sofa's smooth surface.

"Did you meet her?" She asked, completely out of the blue, like it was the most important information that she had to obtain right away, without any second of delay.

"I met lots of people, including her, Ferdinand's wife and son, his accountant's son." He started to list, gesticulating his hands, still staying in his place on the couch.

"Is she beautiful like mama said?" The Boleyn girl continued to pester Henry about Katherine and her relatives.

"Well, Ferdinand has beautiful daughters, that's true."

"Is she more beautiful than the others?" The beauty handed him the chalice filled with the ginger colored liquid.

"They are all gorgeous," Henry responded, bringing the glass up to his mouth and devouring the bitter taste of alcohol.

"What does she look like?" The mafia boss felt like the loop formed from Mary's unstated accusations was clenching tightly around his masculine neck.

"She's a redhead, blue eyes, slender..." The brunette was so exhausted that he gave up on explaining to his future bride that Katherine wasn't his mistress, so he just answered her question.

"I see..." She lowered her head, glancing at her feet still clad in black, Italian leather heels.

Before the couple was able to speak again, Anne and Arthur walked in. Anne was holding a big, grey slipcover with Mary's wedding gown laboriously hidden inside of it.

"How could you, Arthur, how could you?! If I notice you watching these sort of movies again..." The young woman glared at her fiance and I can assure you: if looks could kill, Arthur would have dropped dead.

"Anne, the love of my life, this won't happen again! It's the last time that I'm going to be disrespectful like that towards you." He folded his hands, as if he was about to kneel in front of his girlfriend and start to pray like she was the Holy Mother herself.

"So you were doing it before! Great! Just great!" Anne Boleyn hollered, hitting Arthur on the chest.

"Please, forgive me, honey."

"Watching porn again, Arthur?" Henry joked and that had been supposed to be an innocent joke, though in Arthur's eyes it was perfidious mockery. Before the younger man was able to send his brother a glare, Anne slapped him unceremoniously.

"Oops, sorry," Henry feigned innocence, though to tell you the truth, he couldn't resist from laughing on the inside. Arthur touched his cheek, completely humiliated by a mere girl.

"You are doing it on a regular basis as well." The younger brother decided to get back at him, revealing the dark truth about his older sibling's preferences.

"Henry!" Mary hollered as if she wanted to say, "How could you?!", despite the fact that she had secretly known about her fiance's innocuous hobby even before this amusing scene occurred.

"What? All men do it," the brunette stated without hesitation, absolutely sure that watching those sort of movies was acceptable and natural.

"Yes, of course!" It was hard to tell if the Boleyn girl had been truly offended or she had just wanted to tease him.

"They do, it's not a big deal. I still love you." Henry shrugged at that. He didn't think this had required any sort of further explanation. The future bride smiled at her beloved one, her pretty, delicate face illuminated with joy.

"Do you want to see me wearing my wedding dress?"

"Not before the wedding, sweetheart but I'm sure you look gorgeous in it." He planted a chaste kiss on Mary's smooth cheek.

"Of course, she does!" Anne was utterly sure of it, any sort of negotiation was unacceptable in her eyes.

"I can't wait to see you dressed in it on our wedding day."

Mary kissed him on the mouth once more as if he felt a lack of tenderness.

"Are you hungry?" Mary seemed to fit perfectly for the role of a wife, most importantly the wife of this particular mafioso.

"Yes, I am," Henry responded gladly, content upon having such a good, trained woman by his side. Trained by her own father.

Anne, the youngest child of Thomas Boleyn smirked, her characteristic lips formed into a vicious smile.

"What? Was Mr. Trastamara not hospitable?"

"Not especially. And I was more focused on threatening him than food," Henry admitted, shrugging his wide, masculine arms.

"Oh, I see. So now my sweet sister will go to the kitchen, using her special, invisible wings of love in order to prepare you some food since she is so obedient, so submissive and so loving," she continued to mock him since it had always been very entertaining to her.

But her opponent didn't seem to be worried – to be honest he was willing to agree with his future sister-in-law that he had grown up with. Mary was the best choice. He had hit the jackpot.

She knew how to be a lady – a little bit of a naive one – but she still managed to present herself as a true madame – she knew how to satisfy her man in bed and where the cooking was concerned, well, she was good at giving orders in a polite and sweet manner, unlike her younger, vicious, bitchy sister.

Mary glared at Anne, offended by her ignorance and her insolence.

"The housekeeper can do that, can't she"? Mary asked rhetorically.

"Precisely. The housekeeper do that, Anne," Henry added.

It had taken a while for Anne to be able to speak again.

"You should put your gown on again, so come to your bedroom with me,"Anne ordered and Mary only glanced at her groom.

"I will wait for you to come, honey but first I will tell the housekeeper to make you some food," she assured him, gently patting his shoulder and walking away, going up the stairs, dragged by her infuriating sister.

"So... What about Ferdinand?" Arthur chatted up his brother, forgiving the humiliation that he had experienced thanks to his brother's blabbermouth.

"He said he's bankrupt."

"Interesting! Do you believe him?" The younger man inquired, speculating silently if Ferdinand was capable of deceiving all of them by lying about his ostensible insolvency. Yes, he definitely was. A proud, cunning, sly as a fox and temperamental Spaniard like him was capable of anything.

"No, I don't. I told him that I could take one of his daughters as a guarantee that I would get my money back, the youngest one is unmarried. That would give him more incentive to give me my money," the hazardous businessman answered the question, starting to unbutton his shirt at the same time, revealing part of his muscular chest.

"What do you mean by taking one of his daughters as a guarantee?" Despite the fact that he had known his brother for decades, he was genuinely shocked that Henry would be able to use an innocent girl to achieve his goal. Arthur had been closer to his father than any of his siblings – maybe except for little Mary – the most pampered baby sister all over the world – nonetheless he was raised with a great respect towards women.

"As in sleep with the youngest one," he said nonchalantly, though his intense eyes were sparkling with excitement.

"Is she attractive"? Arthur thought that woman must have been really appealing, more than the rest.

"She is gorgeous." There was no doubt in Henry's sensual voice. He was the type of person who liked to dictate absolutely everything without exception – when he said a woman was stunning, she was stunning.

"Oh, is that so?" Arthur liked to tease his siblings, especially those who had gotten under his skin.

"Yes. With gorgeous red hair and beautiful blue eyes." Henry continued to daydream about his recent "female friend", this time he was expressing his feelings aloud.

"Trust me, she's hot." He acted like he was trying to convince his own brother.

"Is she busty?" It seemed like Arthur had become interested.

"She has fantastic cleavage", he stated.

"What about her backside?" Arthur wasn't planning on giving up where mockery was concerned.

"I told you, she's hot." The fact Henry was the object of derision didn't bother him at all. He seemed not to notice anything in Arthur's attitude that would have been offensive.

"Are you planning on seducing her?" This time the sound of concern emerged in Arthur's question.

"Of course, it will put pressure on Ferdinand to pay me back. I hear she is his favorite." It was obvious for Henry this woman was worth sacrificing Mary's trust for again.

"Organize a date then," the younger Tudor feigned excitement, trying to give his older brother valuable advice.

"That will take some effort. I don't think she likes me very much." Henry admitted, frustrated.

"How do you know that?"It was utterly unbelievable that a woman didn't want to have a close friendship with the handsome, wealthy and powerful Henry Tudor.

"We talked at the party and she was very sharp and dismissive," Henry explained.

"Well, she sounds like the spitting image of her precious daddy," Arthur giggled, massaging the nape of his neck with his right hand.

"Indeed, she wasn't as subtle and diplomatic as her mother," he said, while his gorgeous lips curved into a slight smile.

"Ferdinand is an excellent diplomat," the younger man joked, trying to refrain himself from laughing uncontrollably.

"But he can be rude and blunt," Henry pointed out. Arthur managed to regain his composure and sat down beside his brother, flippantly patting his shoulder.

"I guess he can," the black-haired man agreed with his companion.

After a short period of time, George, Charles and Thomas walked in, seeming to be exhausted. Thomas took his hat off and placed it on the corner cabinet.

"What's up?" George chatted up, nervously scratching his head.

"We were just talking about Ferdinand and his youngest daughter," Henry explained, taking a long sip of the fragrant drink that Mary had made for him.

"Yeah, but remember, don't fall in love with her face and her body – it would be disastrous – under no circumstances can you break up with my sister." It sounded like a warning.

The boss only glared at his associate and future brother-in-law.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," he assured him.

"That's for sure," George replied, trying his best to hide the amusement audible in his voice. His father only rolled his eyes in annoyance. Charles and Arthur giggled observing the whole situation.

"I have done some research that may turn out to be useful. Should we go to your study?" Thomas asked, drawing Henry's precious attention.

Without a second of delay, the five of them headed up towards the private office that was situated in the left corner of the ground floor. As they passed the threshold, Charles closed the mahogany, massive door with a loud thud. Henry sat behind the desk in his leather armchair, placing his glass of whiskey on the countertop of his handmade writing table.

"Tell me everything you know," the boss demanded, taking another gulp of the ginger liquid that barely covered the bottom of the chalice.

"Try to guess Isabella's maiden name". Thomas took a seat on the couch, placing himself on it comfortably and putting his arms around his chest. A rich, golden watch was sitting firmly on Thomas's wrinkled wrist while snowy white cuffs were standing out of his woolen, camel colored coat. The expensive suede of his elegant shoes glossed in the artificial light flowing from the white lamp planted on the shelf.

"What is it?" Henry didn't bother trying to find an answer to that strange query.

"Trastamara. Isabella Trastamara, the older child of John Trastamara and his second wife, Isabella Aviz – the Portuguese – 23 years younger than him," the eldest man in the room answered.

"What do you mean?" Arthur became interested, deep down thinking that he had misheard.

"Is Ferdinand related to Isabella?" Henry asked while his blue eyes became wide in surprise.

"They are distant cousins. Ferdinand's father's name was also John Trastamara and they were related to each other," Thomas enlightened his future son-in-law, smirking a little just like his youngest daughter, Anne.

"Gross! It sounds like incest!" George hollered with revulsion clearly visible on his face.

His father rolled his eyes while Charles and Arthur burst out laughing.

"Distant relatives, the key word, son – DISTANT. The dispensation wasn't even necessary to obtain."

"Even marrying distant relatives sounds like incest to George," Henry chuckled.

"Well, she had an older brother, Henry Trastamara, a half brother actually. There was another one Alfonso – a few years younger than Isabella from the same mother but he died as a teenager. Where Ferdinand is concerned, his parents had so many children that I don't remember their names and research at this point was very difficult to accomplish. Anyway most of them are already dead," Thomas continued.

"Poor Ferdinand," Henry jeered,"Is Isabella's brother a lawyer too?" That question followed his malicious mockery.

"...No... He is an actor and a director," The grey-headed man answered after some hesitation.

"Really? Is he any good?" This particular news didn't seem to impress Henry in any way.

"Frequent Oscar winner, the marvelous Michael Corleone from The Godfather..." He hadn't gotten the opportunity to finish his sentence because Arthur yelled in surprise, mixed with a weird sort of excitement.

"Are you kidding me?" Arthur hardly could believe his own ears, "You must be joking! He has always been my idol!" He was unhealthy aroused upon receiving this kind of information, that's why Henry dared to scoff.

"Maybe Ferdinand will get his autograph for you," he snorted.

Arthur only shrugged.

"Why not."

"I will have to ask him." This time the brunette sounded serious.

"You should. I would like to get his autograph too," Charles admitted, speaking out for the first time.

"Anyone else want one?" Henry looked around, waiting for another request to come out.

There wasn't any.

"Duly noted. Did you learn anything else?"

Thomas sighed. "The editor in chief of American Vogue is Henry Trastamara's ex wife... and apparently his first cousin."

"Do all the Trastamaras like to marry their cousins?" Henry inquired, a specific kind of anxiety emerging on the horizon.

"Well... Sometimes people marry distant relatives and they didn't even know about that fact," Thomas explained, theatrically.

"Such a dysfunctional family!" George exclaimed, falling down on the sofa next to his father.

"Katherine Trastamara – the youngest one – is believed to be engaged to Maurice Chapuys," he added.

"That would explain why he was so protective of her." Henry lost himself in his thoughts.

"Who wouldn't be?" Charles joked, hiding a smile and inserting his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"If I find out some new information I will let you know. But now I must eat something, I'm starving," the eldest man stated, slowly standing up on his feet.

"The housekeeper is supposed to make me some food, you're welcome to join me," Henry extended the verbal invitation to him.

"Of course, I will," Thomas responded.

"If you don't need me anymore, I'm going to go home." George said shyly, "Anyway, Jane will be angry as always. What am I saying? She is already furious as hell."

"Since I'm generally lonely, could I sleep here?" Brandon interjected.

"You may go home, George. Good night. And of course, Charles, you're always welcome here," Henry answered, patting his best friend's arm.

* * *

 **London, Present Day.**

Two weeks had passed since Henry bought Teddie as a peculiar gift for his beloved daughter. Little Mary completely fell for the minuscule, fluffy creature that was covered with his snowy white, soft fur. Those raven black pair of eyes were glowing with utter joy whenever he got all the attention the Tudor family was able to provide. Admittedly, he became the honorable member of this particular family, thanks to his own loveliness. Even that coal colored, wet nose didn't bother anyone while sniffling intrusively at everyone who had decided to pay a visit. The children seemed to be extremely happy having a pet by their side. Mary loved when the dog inserted his pink, coarse tongue into her ear, delicately tickling her little earlobe. The four year old would laugh hysterically when she received this specific sort of tenderness and the proof of the animal's eternal love.

Only Owen was a little distant since Teddie officially did belong to Mary and Henry had bought the pet having the youngest child in mind. Despite the fact that all of the Tudor children were really spoiled and no one should have felt more or less loved at this point, the younger boy always had been prone to specific tantrums when his sister got one kiss more from their father than the rest.

Little Mary felt terribly knowing Owen had been resenting her for years which had started to be unbearable since the new addition to the family arrived home. Wanting to make a kind of friendship with her brother, the girl officially gave him permission to play with Teddie whenever he would like to.

However, as the the true son of Henry Tudor, Owen decided that it wasn't a sufficient price for his friendship – that's why, Mary, being a good, slightly naive child, gave away all the coins that she had gathered in her money box. She was so frustrated to gain her older brother's acceptance, she didn't realize it hadn't been fair. With a big smile painted on her bright, oval face, she handed the pink penny bank over to Owen.

After a busy day, full of domestic chores, including caring for three children and cooking along with the housekeeper– Katherine took a shower, put on an ordinary, cotton blue nightgown and started to prepare herself for bed. She had also managed to complete all of her translations that she had supposed to do as the good, ambitious and solid worker she had always been. Seemingly everything looked good where her and Henry's marriage was concerned. Nonetheless, the atmosphere that formed every time those two came into one room was stiff and excruciatingly dense. No sooner had she slipped under the velvet, crimson covers than Henry walked into the bedroom wearing elegant, expensive, green colored pajamas made of silk. His brown hair was moist, as he had just gotten out of the shower.

They didn't say anything to each other. Henry just climbed into the huge, king sized bed where a great, sumptuous looking canopy towered over them. Henry reached for Katherine's smooth arm, pulling her closer and then planting a kiss on her fantastic neck. She clearly wasn't in the mood for this sort of playing, which had been going on for a long time. She started to reject his advances. The dark-haired man only sighed and rolled over to his side of the bed.

Then a delicate knock came on the wooden door.

Henry's kissable mouth curved into a huge, radiant smile. He looked at his gorgeous wife.

"Hmm, I wonder who it could be at the door, Kate? A little intruder..." Henry said, winking at the mother of his children.

She sent him a subtle smile.

"Come in, whoever you are," she invited her daughter without hesitation.

Then the door was flung open with minimal force and a sweet, brown haired little girl walked in, dressed in her lovely pink pajamas – all of the Disney princesses were glancing at others from the top of her uniform. Mary was clutching her beloved, stuffed sheep in one of her tiny hands, her shiny hair was tangled as if she hadn't used her comb for days. But the child certainly had just woken up from her short, restless sleep and decided coming to her parents' bedroom would be the best idea to soothe her nerves. She already had her pink cast removed from her wrist, however she hadn't recovered completely yet – in two days she was going to start her rehabilitation.

"Well, hello, my little darling. What can we do for Your Highness?" Henry asked, smiling upon seeing his beloved pearl standing in front of him.

Before the little girl was able to respond, her caring mother had inquired:

"Mary, why are you barefoot?"

The princess just shrugged her arms.

"I just didn't have enough time to put my fluffy slippers on," she explained.

"Why is that? I see you had enough time to take your sheep with you, sweetheart," The redhead asked, raising an eyebrow to look more serious, though she wasn't able to hide her amusement.

"The Duke is my best friend, so I couldn't forget him. And I just couldn't wait to kiss my beautiful mommy and my handsome daddy. The Duke and I feel too lonely in our room so we would like to sleep here. We will be quiet, I promise!" She swore, touching her right temple with two of her little fingers as if she was a scout girl.

Henry patted the spot in between Katherine and him.

"Of course you and the Duke may sleep here, lovely Mary. You're the princess of this castle. Come here," he stated, stretching his welcoming arms out in an inviting gesture.

The beloved daughter of Henry Tudor came closer, contented upon receiving the invitation, which was noticeable on her pretty, girly face. She took her place in the free space between both her mother and her father. Katherine protectively wrapped the covers around her baby girl, tucking her in as every loving mother would do.

"But don't say that when Owen is here, daddy. He won't be happy hearing it. He wants to be the prince of this castle so much! Let him think that he is," the brunette proposed politely, petting the fluffy head of her sheep.

"Of course, a castle needs a prince as well, my sweet Mary. You're the smartest, kindest girl I know," Henry responded, joyfully leaning closer and rubbing his nose over Mary's in a loving gesture. The little girl giggled as if someone was tickling her furiously in order to tease her.

"And you are the smartest, kindest and the most handsome dad I know," the child stated, looking straight into her father's intense eyes. The eyes that were a mirror where you could see the reflection of all his feelings, all the love he had had for this petite, sweet but significant creature since the day of her difficult birth. Henry never thought that he would favor a daughter over his boys. Despite the fact he had always adored adult women and had the skill to seduce and take care of them, he couldn't imagine himself with a female baby in the cradle. He had wanted to have sons – two times his dream came true but then bad fate, incarnated in Katherine's person (who had been acting deliberately) disappointed his hopes. And it was the best failure he could have ever had. The miraculous baby stole his heart four years ago and she did it irretrievably.

Katherine started to laugh, leaning down and kissing Mary on the forehead.

"Since I'm the princess and Owen is the prince, what about Edward? I wouldn't like him to be sad. He is the best brother I have ever had! Owen is nice too but he doesn't like Mary." The little girl still tended to refer to herself as "Mary", like she had used to when she was a little younger. Her parents were doing their best to teach their daughter how to speak correctly but anyway, this trait, characteristic of the little girl, was just adorable.

"Edward is the strong, gallant, brave knight of the castle. He is your champion, swearing his loyalty to you and fighting glorious battles in your name, little princess." Henry expected that Mary would be contented upon receiving this concrete answer. But the little creature frowned, making her famous "duck face" - hiding her upper lip under the bottom one and thinking about something intently.

"Hmmm, can the knight marry the princess?"She finally asked innocently, as if she didn't know it wouldn't be possible.

"Oh, no, my sweetheart. This knight can't marry this princess," Katherine explained to her, hoping she wouldn't dwell on the subject.

"Why?" However Mary decided to continue inquiring.

"Because Edward is your brother and brothers don't marry their sisters, sweetheart. You have the same blood," Henry said.

"Oh... So your fairy tale is weird, daddy. Mommy reads me stories of princesses who marry brave, gallant knights!" The child exclaimed resolutely.

"Well, our story is different. It's special," Katherine reacted, defending her husband's theory.

"That's right. Edward is a better knight than those in the fairy tales. He will always be there for you, as your big brother," the father of the family added, playing with a stray brown strand of his daughter's soft hair. Mary sent him a huge smile, that was glued to her little face. Then she laid down in her place between her parents and Henry tucked her in. The small brunette started to fall asleep, closing her heavenly blue eyes.

"I forgot to check on Teddie. I'm not a good mom..." She murmured, clearly worried about her beloved pet.

"Teddie is sleeping soundly in his basket, you have nothing to worry about."

"Will you hold my hands until I fall asleep?" The little girl asked in her high pitched voice.

"And what about the Duke? Won't he feel lonely?" The mother was eager to agree but she was curious about her baby girl's reply.

In spite of being sleepy, Mary reached for her favorite mascot and placed it firmly on Katherine's stomach.

"He wants to sleep next to you. Because you are so beautiful and you smell good! The Duke likes nice smells!" She praised her mom's good features, wanting to encourage her to take care of the stuffed sheep.

"The Duke is a lucky little sheep," Henry admitted with pretension present in his tone.

He planted a slight kiss on Mary's cheek.

"Sweet dreams, my little lamb," he said, glancing at the little girl with utter tenderness clearly noticeable in his sight.

She closed her coin shaped eyes, holding her parents by their palms.

"But you aren't a lion, daddy, are you..." she asked unconsciously while sleep was overwhelming her mind and minuscule, fragile body. The sound of her delicate snoring was the only thing that could be heard as the disturbance among their private curfew. But the sound was more relaxing than irritating.

"Our daughter is such a precious, beautiful little girl," Henry dared to break the silence, nonetheless speaking in a low voice, so he wouldn't wake up his sleeping flower.

"Yes. And you wanted to have three boys," Katherine expostulated, though she hadn't intended to be malicious.

"I am so glad we had Mary. She is my heart." The dark-haired man defended himself.

"I know. You are spoiling her. And sometimes you just exaggerate. Like with Teddie..." She retorted.

"She loves Teddie. I can't help but spoil her, she is just so adorable and sweet and happy. It makes me happy to make her happy." Henry had never thought pampering kids, especially a daughter, was something bad and harmful.

"I'm not against the idea of having Teddie. He's sweet and he stole my heart but I think she is too small to have a pet. I'm afraid she could harm him by accident. And most of all: Owen was furious about that and he felt hurt," Katherine murmured, a bit annoyed.

"It's not like Teddie is only for Mary. Owen and Edward can play with him too, Kate," he stared at her with fondness, like he was an abandoned dog who needed this gorgeous redhead's love and understanding.

"Explain that to Owen," she whispered cold-heartedly, purposefully looking away from him, so her heart wouldn't get fonder.

"But Mary was so sweet telling him he could play with Teddie too. She even gave him all the money from her piggy bank. He accepted but a minute later he started teasing her again. I'm afraid our sons could feel...you know...rejected? You are a hero for Owen. However, kids at school tease him because of your profession," she was going on and on.

"I didn't want him to feel left out, Teddie is for him as well. As for the second part: we are not going to talk about my profession again, Kate," Henry stated adamantly.

"Why not?" The redhead asked a rhetorical question.

"Because there's nothing to say about it. It's what I do and that's all." He finished the conversation irreversibly.

"Well... goodnight then." Katherine switched the lamp standing on her bedside table off and laid down, still holding Mary's sweaty hand.

"Goodnight, my dear wife," Henry responded politely, following his wife's actions and laying down comfortably in the bed.

Mary started snoring louder and louder, at the same time loosening her grip over her parents' hands. The child was stirring nervously in her place, unconsciously looking for the stuffed sheep that was sort of a lucky charm. Katherine placed the mascot next to its owner so Mary could grab its artificial fur with her small everything looked good as always, nothing had disturbed The Tudors' night routine so far. And there wasn't anything that would indicate the dreadful sequence of events that would follow that sweet family scene and the stern exchange between the married couple that had just occurred.

Then, all of a sudden the atmosphere tensed up, long lights started to illuminate insistently as if someone had deliberately cast a light on the inhabitants of this particular bedroom. An evil-doer, precisely hidden somewhere among abundant bushes, in cold blood, pulled the trigger with his finger, covered with a black, leather glove. Instinctively, at the sound Henry's ears were very familiar with, he

moved quickly in an adrenaline-fueled blur, shielding Mary with his own body as he called out to his wife to get on the floor, his voice retaining a certain calm despite the chaos. Katherine rolled over the side of the bed away from the windows onto the floor, Henry following with Mary in his

arms, tucked in closely to his body, dragging the bedcovers down with them as gunshots continued to ring out in quick succession, riddling the wall behind them with bullet holes. Broken glass showered the bed like crystal rain. Mary had started screaming, the piercing sound ringing in his ears as his heart raced, his blood pumping faster in his veins. The child started to cry loudly, uncontrollable panic flashed in her still sleepy eyes. The lights around the house had been switched on and the security staff was ready to take action. They started running around the luscious gardens looking for the stranger with a firearm by his side, as if they were chasing a disobedient teenager or even hunting down a rabbit.

"What about Mary?! And what about the boys!?" Katherine hollered in frustration, as bitter tears of fear started running down her rosy cheeks.

She took her screaming daughter from Henry and embraced her tightly in a protective way, as if she wanted to hide Mary inside of her own body once again, as if the girl was a mere fetus, not a four year old child. Teddie was barking furiously, nonetheless he was too scared to run up to his owner from his warm place in the basket.

"Shh, Mary, it's okay, you're safe. I'm sure the boys are safe as well. This was meant for me. That son of a fucking bitch, Francis! This is his doing. I want to hang him from a ceiling rafter and beat him to a fucking pulp and teach him a bloody lesson! That son of a fucking whore!" Henry yelled in shock, cradling his daughter's head and rubbing Katherine's shoulder, who was tucked in closely to her husband's muscular body, carrying Mary in her motherly embrace.

"Where is Teddie? Is he safe?" Mary asked while sobbing hysterically, scratching her mother's shoulder with her fingernails.

"Yes, he is safe, my love. Shh, sweetheart. Wrap your arms around mommy's neck. I'm holding you," Katherine whispered into her daughter's ear, kissing her earlobe.

"Does your wrist hurt?" She inquired, though fortunately her daughter shook her head no, so Katherine could assume everything was fine, at least at this point.

Before Henry was able to say anything, his cellphone had started to ring.

The Mafia boss crawled up to the bedside table on his side of the bed and reached his mobile phone.

"What?" He answered, trying to regain his usual composure.

It was Henry's younger brother.

"Henry, we heard the gunshots! Are you ok?" He asked with concern in his voice. Elizabeth's villa was situated a few houses away from Henry's mansion, hence Arthur could hear the dreadful sound and predict what had happened.

"Arthur, yeah, we're okay, though Mary is terrified," the older man replied.

"I'm sure it was Francis's doing. Charles and Mary will be here in a while," Arthur admitted.

"I'm also sure it was that bastard! How would he like it if I hit him when he was in bed with his wife and child? That fucking bastard! He could have killed my child." Henry didn't mind calling Francis names in the presence of his juvenile daughter at this point and Katherine didn't dare to scold him about that.

"He will pay for it. That's for sure. George and Thomas are on their way as well. Now take the kids and come here. We must talk. After that Katherine and the children will go to George's house. Mary will take Annie, Lizzy, mom and grandma to her place. George will guard your family with his own life, I assure you," Arthur stated.

"Okay, we'll be there soon." No sooner had Henry hung up than Mary cried out in shame.

"Mommy, I wet my pants."

"Henry, take her. I must check on the boys!" Katherine exclaimed hastily, leaving Mary, knowing Henry would take care of her perfectly.

"It's okay, daddy's got you, sweetheart. We'll get you cleaned up and you'll get to see your

uncle Arthur soon, would you like that? We'll bring Teddie." The father cuddled his baby girl tightly, whispering words of solace and rubbing her back.

"Yes but I want to sleep. Where is the Duke?" The little girl asked, complaining a little about the disturbance of her sleep.

"You'll get to sleep soon. I think I saw him safe under the bed," Henry answered.

"I want to give him a hug. And most of all Teddie. He is Mary's baby. He must be terrified," she pointed out, yawning.

"I'm sure Teddie would love that. I'll find the Duke for you when mom comes back," the dark-haired man promised, trying to soothe her nerves.

"You will always protect me, daddy, won't you? Me, mommy, my brothers, Teddie and the Duke?"

Henry placed a kiss on the top of her head, touched by that innocent question.

"Of course, sweetheart. With my life. I will always protect you and our family." He swore.

"And all of my aunties: Maria, Mary, Isabella, Joanna, Anne, Margaret the first, Margaret the second, Jane? And all of my uncles: John, Arthur, Manuel, Charles, Alfonso, Philippe, George and even uncle James though I don't know him well? And all of my cousins? And grandma Elizabeth, grandma Isabella, and grandpa? Because I love all of them so much," Mary confessed, her high pitched voice was filled with childlike fondness and naivety.

"I adore you very much," Henry said caressingly, "Of course I will protect all the people you love, sweetheart."

"Oh, and my uncle Maurice? And his parents? And great grandmother? She is weird but she has nice eyes and I like her."

The dark-haired man chuckled at his beloved pearl's frank concern.

"She thinks you have nice eyes too. For you, I will protect them all." Henry hid his nose in the folds of Mary's neck, inhaling her sweet scent.

"Maybe we will buy a huuuuge castle? The biggest in the world? All of us could live there! And always be happy, together and safe!" Instantaneous hope appeared on Mary's little face.

"I'll buy you the biggest castle money can buy, baby girl." It was obvious Henry would buy her absolutely everything and it was obvious he had become his own daughter's slave.

"I don't feel good because..." The child broke the silence, however hesitating if she should complain about such a private matter in front of her father.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Henry inquired, being genuinely worried.

"But won't you laugh?"

"I won't know until you tell me." Henry giggled once more.

"I wet my pants... You know I wanted you to be proud of me that I wasn't doing it anymore, it's uncomfortable and cold," Mary complained shyly.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm still proud of you. You're a brave little girl. Let's

go find mom." As soon as Henry stood up, Katherine walked into the room, still wearing only her chemise.

"I had to take care of Owen. He was so scared, I had to bring him some clothes. He didn't want to leave Edward. The boys are completely dressed and ready to go. I gathered some of the most important things. Mary, Teddie and our bags are prepared too. I will clean her up and help her get dressed."

Katherine stretched her arms out as Henry handed Mary over to her mother.

"Alright, Kate. I'll go see how they are doing. How are you?" He asked as he caressed her cheek.

"I'll be fine. But I couldn't find Teddie!" The redhead exclaimed, worried about the white, merry Maltese.

"Oh, please, find him! Find my baby boy," Mary begged, overhearing the conversation, despite the fact that her head was resting peacefully on Katherine's naked shoulder, her eyes closed.

"Okay. I will. Don't worry, Mary."

After finding Teddie under the bed in one of the spare rooms and spending the next ten minutes trying to coax him out with a slice of fresh ham and then putting the animal into his travel box, Henry finally could go and check on the rest of his children.

He found two frightened, cuddling boys, sitting on the cool floor of Edward's spacious room. Owen raised his head when he heard the noise of the opening door.

"Dad!" The younger boy immediately stood to his feet, running straight into Henry's welcoming arms.

Owen was considered a "big boy" but in spite of that fact, Henry picked him up, kissing both of his cheeks.

"Owen, I'm so glad you're safe. Are you okay? Edward, come over here." Henry hoped his eldest boy would show some concern and love even if he continued keeping his own father at bay.

He did hesitate a little but finally came closer and hugged Henry with all the force he could produce.

"I thought all of you were dead." Edward hid his face in Henry's silk shirt, which absorbed all of the silent tears that the boy's cheeks had been covered with.

Owen started sobbing frantically, bitting his bottom lip.

"I also thought we had lost you. I will never be jealous of Mary again, I swear," he cried out.

"I love you two very much. We're all fine, everything will be okay. I promise, I promise."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 **London, present day**

A few days after that atrocious event had occurred, Henry Tudor arranged a meeting with his deadly enemy, Francis Valois who supposedly was the mastermind of the whole dreadful and despicable action. The man of French origin had lived in England since he was three years old, adopting a typical English lifestyle, though still being particularly fond of his French roots, including the language called by some,"the language of love."

The Valois entered on the mobster scene shortly after Henry Tudor Sr. had married his beloved Elizabeth, thereby dispelling those hot disputes which had taken place between The Tudor and The York factions for years. The boss of the most powerful and dangerous crew in the United Kingdom couldn't breathe a sigh of relief after making a friendship with his former enemy because Charles Valois moved to England with his whole family, including five year old Margaret and three year old Francis – the apple of his parents' eye.

Surprisingly, Henry Jr. and the only son of his father's alleged opponent seemed to be fond of each other, attending the same classes at the most prestigious school in the city. Unfortunately, the promising flame of friendship couldn't last long since it had never stuck to the boys' fathers' plans, thus it was ruthlessly extinguished. The hatred once implanted in their hearts started growing until it reached its zenith.

Henry strongly believed that what had happened days ago was the epitome of that particular odium.

When Henry walked into the strip club that he happened to co-own, surrounded by his staunch companions, Francis had already been sipping his "White Russian", sitting flippantly at the bar and glancing with lust at the almost-naked and irresistibly voluptuous dancers who were moving frivolously, boldly vamping all the clients from a distance. Despite his nonchalant manner, Valois was wearing an elegant, steel suit with a matching, silk tie fraying tightly to his neck. A Rolex was glittering from its place around the dark-haired man's wrist.

Before coming closer, Henry looked around with wariness glowing in those intense eyes of his. Immediately he noticed two bodyguards observing the course of events sitting on a red leather couch, occasionally glancing over their shoulders at the attractive women on the stage. The view didn't surprise him since George, Thomas, Charles and even Arthur were gathered around him. He let them go, waving his hand in a meaningful gesture, then he swept invisible dust away from his grey jacket and approached his enemy who sent him a wry smile.

No sooner had Henry taken his place on the stool than Francis spoke up.

"Hello, my dear fellow. What is that urgent matter you want to discuss?"

Henry leaned closer and whispered venomously.

"Tell me, do you enjoy shooting up bedrooms where women and children are sleeping?"

While Henry was speaking of his accusations, Francis was about to swallow the hot liquid of his drink present in his throat but instead of doing so, he almost choked on that upon hearing the incrimination.

"Me? What are you talking about?" He feigned innocence, firmly putting his glass on the countertop.

"Someone shot up my bedroom where my wife and daughter were sleeping. Do you deny that it was you?" Henry snarled, looking straight into Francis's feverish eyes.

The other man lifted his hands up.

"It wasn't me."

"Why should I believe you?" Henry asked in exasperation.

"Why shouldn't you?" Francis started his famous game which consisted of answering a question by asking another question.

Henry sighed and ordered a glass of "Bloody Mary".

"That's obvious. We're not exactly friends," he responded after gulping the red liquid of his drink.

"Indeed," Francis mocked.

"You could have killed my wife and daughter!" Henry roared and his face flushed with rage.

"My dear Henry, I wasn't the head of this operation. I don't know who did this."

Valois had never belonged to the group of people who gave in easily so he still (deliberately) contended that he hadn't known what was going on.

"Convince me that you're telling the truth," Henry demanded angrily as he was close to losing his temper.

"It's true that I'm not fond of you and I was planning on hitting you but not in that way, for God's sake! It must have been my stupid and unreasonable cousin... It seems like he is still nursing a grudge. You shouldn't have had a dalliance with his former girlfriend," Francis reproached, as if he had been concerned. His raven black eyes seemed to glow.

"And your cousin acted without your knowledge?" Henry turned a deaf ear to the mention of his conquest which had taken place a long time ago and it had definitely been an extremely short affair.

Francis just shrugged, once again glancing over his shoulder at the vulgar dancers. He was by no means thinking about what Henry was saying in that moment.

"I don't believe that you didn't know what your cousin was planning."

"Come on, Henry. I'm a husband and a father myself," Valois pointed out, smiling slyly.

"And? Does that make you more sympathetic? It wasn't your wife and child that could have been killed."

"I meant I would have never done that," he swore.

"If what you say is true, keep your cousin on a shorter leash," Henry snarled, glaring at his enemy and then taking a terminal gulp of his "Bloody Mary".

"I promise. But you must promise me you will keep your dealers on a shorter leash too," Francis retorted, smirking.

The other man became alarmed, staring at his companion with piercing eyes.

"Is that why you, oops, I mean your cousin did it? Because of my dealers?" Henry inquired. He started to lose his composure.

Francis flippantly shrugged his shoulders.

"Apparently he didn't know that your daughter and wife would be there with you. By the way: it seems like you have a snitch in your crew." Valois tried to change the subject, however Henry didn't fall into that trap.

"And where else would my wife sleep? In a separate bedroom? You know I have a young child, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that she might want to sleep in her parents' room. You know that I have a family and they live with me. You don't see me shooting up your house where your family lives. Don't feed me your bullshit."

The head of the Valois family started to search his usually shrewd mind, looking for another crafty justification of his cousin's alleged actions, though he surely knew that Henry had already figured out Francis's influence on the whole matter.

"I'm repeating it once again. I didn't do this." Francis hoped he would sound convincing.

"You're a fucking liar," Henry ground out, leaning closer. If Francis's bodyguards hadn't been roaming around, he would have dragged this bastard out of the club and taught him a bloody lesson.

"I'm not."

"Is that all you can say? Stop denying it," Henry demanded, closing his eyes and squeezing the bridge of his nose in a nervous gesture.

"Ok. I wanted to hit but... My cousin did it yesterday without my consent. He confessed it. I was outraged. I wouldn't hit you in that way!" Francis said.

"You bastard! You terrified my daughter. You're lucky my wife and children weren't hurt," Henry burst out with rage, gaining the attention of some of the other clients.

"I didn't mean to hurt them, come on. I was going to hit when they were out but, yeah. I didn't mean to kill you either. You must forgive my cousin. He has always been a great fan of The Godfather," Valois explained.

"I could tell. If you didn't want to kill me, why were you planning to hit?" Henry started inquiring.

Francis sighed before he straightened the whole situation out.

"You should understand that my business is my business. My dealers don't disturb yours and vice versa. By the way: I heard you had promised Katherine to quit the drug business years ago."

"It's a profitable one," Henry simply said.

"Does your wife know about it? And this strip club?" Valois looked around.

Indeed, before Katherine got pregnant with Edward, Henry had promised her to stop selling drugs through his dealers in front of British schools. She had always despised this kind of activity, being particularly fond of children and teenagers. She couldn't stand the fact that the man of her life was amassing his fortune in that despicable way. She felt like he was inciting those kids to commit a crime, in addition to leading them to become addicted. She also asked him to give this club away to his co-owner. Henry had been so obsessed over the blue-eyed woman and he agreed to do so, afraid that he could lose her.

However, he was rather dilatory in keeping his word, considering the fact that both the drugs and the club were extremely beneficial investments and then Katherine had accepted his proposal anyway, which resulted in marriage. He happened to forget about his promise but he remembered to keep it a secret.

"That's none of your business."

"Ok, ok, I was just curious." Francis smiled complacently at his former friend upon seeing Henry's exasperation.

"Does your wife know all about your unsavory investments?" This time it was Henry who changed the subject.

"I will surprise you. She does."

"That is surprising. And does she pester you about it constantly?" The brunette asked, curious if other bosses had a problem with their wives when it came to their business.

"Oh, does Katherine do it?" A smug smile appeared on Francis's attractive face while he once again resorted to using his famous, artful tactic.

"Of course," Henry sighed in resignation.

Valois patted his arm as if they were best friends.

"Well, my wife seems to not care," he confessed, though he was absolutely contented because of Claude's neglectful attitude where his business was concerned.

"Lucky you."

"You could have chosen better, Henry," Francis said.

"Watch yourself. I love my wife," the other man warned him.

"I didn't mean to diminish her value either as a wife or as a woman. She is clever, gifted, intelligent, gorgeous... But you and her... It's not the best match," Francis answered, smirking almost imperceptibly.

"I didn't ask for your opinion," Henry sassed, feeling that this conversation was starting to annoy him to the core.

"Ok, ok. Take it easy." The black-haired man lifted his hands once again, like he wanted to say: "I give up."

"So, I'll keep my dealers on a shorter leash and we won't have this problem again," Henry proposed, stirring nervously in his place on the stool. He just wanted to go back home, kiss his wife and spend some time with his kids.

"Of course," Valois responded, sipping his drink voraciously, he also couldn't focus on the conversation anymore. The vulgar women over on the stage had completely occupied his thoughts.

"It's better to avoid a war, isn't it?" Tudor added.

"I agree". It was a rare occurrence, seeing those two being so agreeable.

"We both have families to look after, after all," Henry reminded, searching the pockets of his jacket, looking for cash – though, as a co-owner of this place, he didn't have to pay for anything.

"Indeed, we do," Francis admitted, clutching the fabric of his steel colored trousers under the countertop.

"I'm glad we share the same opinion on that issue."

"Yeah... Henry, let me give you a piece of advice before we depart: Keep your wife on a shorter leash, fellow. Then she won't pester you about anything that involves your profession."

Both Valois and Tudor had always believed that wives had no authority when it came to their business, the legal and the illegal ones. No one had forced them into marriage, Claude and Katherine had chosen mobsters for their husbands on their own, so why should they reproach them in any way? Most importantly: how dare they do so? They weren't blind and deaf, were they?

"I don't need marital advice from you, Francis." Henry dangerously narrowed his intense, blue eyes, acting as though he hadn't agreed with his enemy on that particular matter, which wasn't true. The dark-haired man at all costs didn't want to show his current companion that his advice might be useful. And, to be honest: was his Katherine the kind of woman who would let herself be kept on a shorter leash? She knew when and how to feign obedience, she knew when and how to reproach her husband – but first and foremost – she didn't forget her mother's teachings: "The man is the head of the house, but the woman is the neck; and the neck can turn the head in any direction."

Was Henry aware of that artful strategy? He surely had heard of it but he didn't think his wife would resort to putting it into practice.

"Fine, fine. So, since we are done, I will go. I hope your dancers are kind to all the clients." Francis stood up, smoothing his suit and straightening his tie. He was completely ready to leave his business and problems behind, conducting a new dalliance, forgetting about Claude and the children waiting for him at home. How could he even think about them when the prospect of a new adventure emerged on the horizon?

"Of course," Henry replied flippantly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Say hi to Katherine for me. You can even kiss her...for me. Oh, I hope she liked my flowers that I sent the other day."

"She didn't!" Henry hollered, trying to refrain himself from standing on his feet and slapping Valois across that wicked mug of his that he had despised so much for years.

Francis only started to laugh loudly, with a complacent smile glued to his face. He knew exactly that the mention of the flowers and his wife would infuriate Henry – and Henry's misery had always been a great reason to rejoice for him. He patted Tudor's arm that Henry snatched away in fury and walked away, still giggling.

* * *

Katherine and the kids had been on vacation for a week. Anne, Mary and Maria, together with their offspring, decided to accompany them with pleasure. Thus, Arthur, Manuel, Charles and Henry became grass widowers. At first the three of them seemed to be glad because of that particular course of events: "When the cat's away the mice would play."

They would play cards at Ferdinand's house, sipping colorful drinks and smoking Cuban cigars. It was difficult for Henry to accept that situation since he had always hated his father-in-law with a big passion. He tried to avoid him as often as possible. Apparently his brother and friends didn't share the same opinion.

Henry felt lonely, sitting at home, having only a sweet, fluffy puppy as company. But there were always two sides of a coin. Maybe the dark-haired man was a bit frustrated, coming back to a huge, cold and empty mansion that usually had been filled with domestic noises and childish screams. But on the other hand, the tension that had been palpable between him and Katherine for weeks and even for months, eventually disappeared.

On Friday, Henry had felt overwhelmed by his solitude that he decided to go out and take a walk through the alleys and have a drink at one of his hotels. He had chosen this one, situated in the city centre of London. He entered the hall wearing a sullen look on his face. Dark shadows appeared under those blue eyes of his, he seemed to be really fraught because of the whole, tensed situation.

The male receptionist welcomed him, he only waved his right hand flippantly and walked into the restaurant, looking around with curiosity. Only a few guests were sitting at the tables, having a late dinner, considering the time of day. They were chatting merrily in low voices. Women were behaving coquettishly in order to tease their male companions.

Henry took a seat at the bar where a young, fair waitress was working. He once again looked around, spotting only two men who were sitting on the stools on the opposite sides, with him in the middle. Henry glanced at the young woman standing at the bar. Her name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth Blount but friends tenderly called her "Bessie." She had a fair complexion and blue eyes with a dominating grey hue. Her blonde hair was combed into a messy ponytail. Some stray strands were hanging loose on her cheeks.

"I'd like a glass of whiskey, please," Henry ordered, staring at his young employee with his piercing eyes.

"Of course, boss," Bessie responded, smiling innocently. By no means did she want to seduce him. She was just being kind and exuberant. She put the cloth and the glass that she had been polishing away and started preparing the drink for Henry.

"Thank you."

The blonde placed a glass filled with fragrant, ginger liquid on the bar.

"I don't want to sound nosy but you look distressed," Blount inquired, tilting her head and glancing at him.

"I'm just tired, and my family went to Florida on vacation so I'm not used to being home alone," Henry answered, taking a small sip of his drink.

"You surely wish you had gone with them," Bessie suggested, leaning in closer and putting her hands on the countertop.

"Indeed, but there's less tension here at home," the brunet confessed, rubbing the edge of his glass with one finger. The blonde giggled.

"At least I have my dog for company." The mention of the white, fluffy puppy caused a slight smile to appear on his lips.

"Do you? I didn't know." Elizabeth became interested. She had always been fond of pets in general.

"Yes, I have a Maltese, I just bought it not too long ago for my children."

"I love pets. Especially dogs. Do you have a photo of it?" Bessie asked, hope was visible in her fair eyes.

"Sure, I do." Henry brought his cell phone out, found a photo of Teddie and handed the device over to Bessie. She glanced at it, starting to smile widely.

"Such a cutie! What is it?"

"It's a boy, his name is Teddie," Henry answered with pride in his voice. He had made quite a bond with the dog.

"I wish I had one." A funny pout appeared on Bessie's face. She was well aware of the fact that having loads of work meant she couldn't own a pet.

"He's very sweet, until he pees in your bed," Henry chuckled, taking a gulp of his whiskey.

"Like a fourth child, isn't he?" Elizabeth joked, sending her boss a disarming smile.

The dark-haired man giggled.

"Indeed. You don't have any children, do you?" Henry inquired, tilting his head.

Bessie seemed to be thoughtful and gloomy – she always had had a soft spot for children, especially babies with their characteristic pink skin, fluffy and plump limbs and the soft vellus on their little heads. She wanted to be a mother, definitely but her time hadn't come yet.

"No, I don't," she responded.

"They can be a handful sometimes but they're truly a gift," Henry admitted, a slight smile was playing on his lips. He had been missing his family ever since they left.

"I can imagine. One more drink?" Bessie asked when she noticed Henry had already finished his drink.

"Yes, thank you."

"I know you have two boys and a girl but I have never seen them," the blonde said, making another glass of whiskey for the boss.

"They don't come here but I'll show you a picture." On that day Henry was really eager to boast about his wonderful family, showing images of them.

Elizabeth took the phone from Henry.

"They are adorable. The eldest one is a spitting image of his father. Honestly, he looks just like your young copy, doesn't he?" She was still staring at the photo of all of Henry's kids.

"Yes, that's what everyone says."

"The little girl and the boy are gorgeous as well. But Edward... I'm overwhelmed by the striking resemblance you two bear," she added.

"It's only in looks, we're quite different in personality," he said gloomily.

"Is that so?" Bessie seemed to be surprised upon seeing that sullen look on Henry's handsome face.

"He doesn't approve of my work," he spat out.

"I see. And I do understand." The young woman handed the cellphone over to its owner. Henry glanced at it briefly and inserted it into his jacket pocket.

"He takes after his mother in that regard," he smirked, taking another sip of the hot liquid.

His female companion only smiled delicately.

"I'm sorry, I'm just going on and on, you probably don't want to listen to my problems," he shook his head, still smiling.

"I don't mind, truly."

"Men must tell you their problems at the bar all the time," Henry winked playfully.

"You're right. Women do it as well."

"I'm sure you often hear about relationship problems."

"Indeed, it's a frequent occurrence." The young woman lowered her eyes, looking straight at the countertop with her arms neatly placed on it. Her pale cheeks flushed and her lips curved in a shy smile. Generally, Elizabeth was a cheerful young woman, very talkative and friendly, usually surrounded by a bunch of friends and male suitors. She liked flirting, laughing and joking in the presence of men. But there had always been something about Henry that made her shy and abashed – her boss was just intimidating.

"There must be a lot of unhappy wives and husbands out there." He raised an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't say that. Being in a relationship isn't a fairy tale. There will always be conflicts." Despite the fact that Bessie was very young, Henry had to admit she sounded sensible.

"Indeed, that's true," he agreed.

A cumbersome silence developed between the two of them, disturbed only by the low voices of the other clients, the noises of cutlery in use and the sensual music that had been flowing over the stereo ever since Henry entered the room.

Elizabeth glanced at her left, slim wrist where her modest, steel watch had been sitting and sighed.

"I will be going home in ten minutes. The other waiter will serve you," she said, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles on her grey uniform.

"Have a drink with me," Henry suggested all of a sudden, staring at the waitress with his piercing gaze.

She shot her head up, glancing at him in utter shock, immediately forgetting the wrinkles on her skirt.

"Seriously?" She couldn't believe that such a man as Henry Tudor, happily married to a woman who had always looked and behaved every inch a queen wanted to have a drink with her. A plain, blonde waitress.

"Yes. Why not?" He asked in surprise.

"You're my boss, aren't you?"

"I am but you're not going to be working in ten minutes," Henry laughed, well aware that no woman was able to resist him. Well, almost no woman.

It took a minute for Bessie to chew everything over.

"Ok, then I must accept."

"Thank you. I enjoy talking with you." The older man confessed, taking a final gulp of his second glass of whiskey.

"You're welcome, boss. I like talking to you too though, I must admit, at the beginning I was a little terrified."

"Why?" The brunet was genuinely curious about her response.

"Well, you're very powerful and dangerous."

"I'm still just a man."

"You have a point," Bessie shrugged her arms flippantly.

"Am I intimidating?" Henry inquired, with a raise of his perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Sometimes... But you're also intelligent and handsome."

"You're very kind." Every word coming out of Bessie's mouth was flattering to Henry's vanity. He liked to be adored by women around him.

"Would you fire me if I had said otherwise?" Elizabeth asked, coquettishly.

"Of course not. You don't have to like me personally, as long as you do your job well." He seemed to be surprisingly understanding.

"I was being honest. You're extremely irresistible."

"Really? My wife doesn't think so," Henry winced.

Bessie just smiled at him and then glanced at her watch again.

"Wait for me at the table. I must gather my things. And I would like to change."

The dark-haired man only shook his head with understanding.

After a few minutes, Elizabeth came back and approached the table that Henry had been sitting at. He was savoring his third drink that night, delicately hitting the top of the table with his fingers. Bessie made an order and took a seat on the opposite side of the table so she could look at Henry in the eyes. Instead of a ponytail, she wore her hair loose, it was cascading down her back. She was dressed in a pair of fashionable, navy jeans and an azure checkered shirt. The first three buttons were undone, revealing a casual, white t-shirt underneath. Bessie had never been a fan of make-up, so she decided to wear only a subtle, red lipstick and black mascara.

"So, what did you mean speaking of your wife?" she asked, taking a gulp of her Pina Colada that had been brought by the other waiter.

"Well, she doesn't find me irresistible. She doesn't have a problem resisting me...", Henry confessed, a bit abashed.

"It can't be so." Elizabeth couldn't believe her ears. Her boss was way too compelling to be repudiated by any woman.

"It is. I sleep in a cold bed," he added with a forced smile glued to his face.

His companion didn't know what to say.

"... I get it. But it's hard to believe. On the other hand she may have a problem," the blonde pointed out shyly.

"If she has a problem, she hasn't tried to resolve it,"Henry responded, rather skeptical towards Bessie's attempt to justify Katherine's behavior.

"Well..."

"Well, enough about me. Tell me something about yourself," Henry asked politely. In fact, he was really curious and eager to know more about his employee.

"I'm boring," Bessie said, lowering her sight, looking at her hands gathered around the glass which was filled with an exotic drink.

"I'm sure that's not true," Henry insisted playfully.

The blonde raised her eyes up and smiled at the older man.

"I am. I like cooking, playing cards, dancing. Nothing special."

"That's not boring. I enjoy those things as well. Do you have a boyfriend that you do those things with?" The brunet seemed to be truly interested where those matters were concerned.

"Six months ago I broke up with my boyfriend,"Bessie said, a gloomy look appeared on her face.

"I'm sorry to hear that. It's his loss."

"Thanks but you don't know me. Maybe I'm the bad guy?" Bessie said coquettishly, she had seemed to regain her former skill in flirting with men.

"Somehow I doubt that." Henry decided to join her in their innocent but flirtatious conversation.

Bessie laughed at that daintily.

"You have a nice laugh," Henry admitted, completely honest.

Her cheeks flushed ferociously as she heard the compliment of this kind from the most intimidating and gorgeous man she had ever known.

"Thank you." Bessie once again glanced at her pale palms which started to quake, almost imperceptibly.

Henry leaned in closer and whispered, straight into her face. His breath was stroking her skin.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked in a low, alluring voice, so characteristic of him. He seemed to forget about his precious, beautiful and loving wife and adorable children who were taking a rest from that whole tensed and dangerous situation, especially after Francis' hit. He hadn't touched a woman in an intimate way for weeks or even months, in addition the alcohol fuddled his brain. The feeling of sexual tension and desire completely blinded him.

"Yes?" She could barely take a breath, she felt overwhelmed by this whole situation and a bit uneasy.

"If I wanted to go home with you, would you agree?" He finally asked.

"...For what?" She knew exactly what Henry was up to, however she decided to act like a naive, innocent girl. To be honest, she wasn't sure if she wanted to have an affair with him, with a married man. Even if it was supposed to be a dalliance of a short duration. But on the other hand, he was her boss, her employer, wasn't he? What were the consequences if she said no?

"I think you know," Henry continued.

"You mean...your home?" She asked naively.

He only smirked."No, yours."

"..Oh... I have a roommate."

"We could go to a hotel, not one of mine obviously." Henry immediately found the solution to that problem.

Elizabeth Blount remained silent for a few minutes, it seemed like she wasn't going to say anything.

"Or not..." Henry sighed, shrugging his shoulders in resignation.

"... And what about your wife?" Bessie finally coughed something up.

"Do you really care?"

"I... I don't know. Don't you love her?" She asked, feeling that anxiety starting to overwhelm her.

"Yes I do but this isn't about love." Henry was a typical or rather a stereotypical man. He didn't think that sex was closely related to love. It was just a physical pleasure, something like an exercise but it was true that sex in a relationship with love was the best thing in the world. Moreover, Henry had been faithful to Katherine ever since he had invited her to his bed and she had accepted. Of course, he still liked flirting and admiring other beautiful women but Katherine was the smartest, the most intelligent and the most gorgeous out of all of them. This time, though Bessie wasn't his type, his frustration overwhelmed him and this young woman seemed to be really likable and discreet.

"But she will be hurt."

"Why do you care? You don't even know her." The boss sounded like he was astonished.

"Would you fire me if I refused?"

"Of course not, that's ridiculous," Henry assured her though Bessie had to be wary. Who knows what he would be able to do if she didn't accept the invitation? She needed this well-paid work.

"I see," she responded, "What if we did that and she...found out?" The blonde asked with anxiety present in her voice.

"She won't find out," Henry said firmly as if he was sure of it.

"Ok."

"You agree?"

"Yes..."

Henry took a pen out of his jacket pocket and wrote the name of a hotel on a napkin, discretely shoving it up in Bessie's direction.

"Meet me here. You'll leave first since we shouldn't be seen leaving together," the brunet whispered.

Bessie took the napkin, folding it and then inserting it into her jeans pocket.

"I hope she won't find out. Otherwise she will kill me," Bessie joked but to tell the truth she wasn't joyous at that very moment.

"No, she wouldn't."

"How do you know that? Have you cheated on her before?" The blonde inquired.

"No. She's just too dignified to kill you," Henry responded, becoming annoyed with Elizabeth's doubts and questions.

"Indeed. She looks, she behaves, she even smells every inch a queen. Mrs. Tudor is the utter epitome of majesty," Bessie smiled, "But I have heard that your ex-girlfriend wasn't so dignified. She stalked your current wife."

"That's true. Mary had a hard time letting go." Tudor smirked, recalling his former fiancee of a few years. Although their breaking up had caused so much pain to her, they decided to remain good friends. They had known each other since childhood, being raised together after Elizabeth Boleyn's death. They were as thick as thieves. Years ago, Mary had found the other love of her life, her current husband William Carey – Henry's man – they had a pair of beautiful children and lived a good, affluent life. But Henry would be a liar if he refused to admit he sometimes thought about his former girlfriend. The passionate nights that they had spent together were engraved in his memory. Mary Boleyn was his best lover, even ahead of his precious Kate. It couldn't be denied.  
"And it won't repeat with Katherine?" The waitress felt the need to be assured once again that nothing would happen to her.

Henry rolled his eyes unnoticeably but responded politely. "She's not going to stalk you."

After staring at her male companion for a few seconds, Bessie took a final, huge sip of her drink and left the hotel in a regular pace, not looking behind at her lover. She didn't want to arouse the suspicion of her co-workers and frequent visitors who knew the owner and his family very well.

Henry didn't even glance over his shoulder to see Bessie's departure. He just took his wedding band off, which his precious Katherine had put on the ring finger of his left hand years ago. He had been staring at it for minutes and then inserted it into his jacket pocket. He finished drinking his whiskey and left the hotel in a hurry.


End file.
